Etxarren (RENEWED!)
by Gretchiro
Summary: In order to be free from the title of Noir and enjoy a peaceful life, Mireille and Kirika must train the next generation: children.
1. Chapter 1: Vanity

Chapter 1

Vanity

Riki watched the clock.

The teacher had just finished directions for lab partners and called names, pairing random students together. When he assigned the international student from Versailles with Riki, she suppressed a groan.

Her lab partner looked her with hazel eyes. "What?" she asked knowingly.

"Oh, nothing!" said Riki.

Her partner smiled equally—what _was_ her name?—and leafed through her notebook. Meanwhile, Riki pulled out her cellphone, hiding it under her pile of folders on her desk. From the teacher's angle at the front of the classroom, he wouldn't see her texting. But when she saw her partner's crazy amount of notes, she stopped to steal a glance. They were in French, with some attempts in Japanese.

"What's your name again?" asked Riki.

"Audriane Dupont," replied her partner, smiling neutrally.

No wonder Riki couldn't remember her name—was Audriane a French name? Was it even an _actual_ name?

What a relief to not have to switch from the comfort of her own language to English or French. Riki nodded blankly, putting away her phone. She didn't want to waste time explaining a complicated equation to a foreign student, she started jogging down notes and answers to their worksheet.

"Hey," began Audriane, confused, her eyes skipping over Riki's notes. "We do together. I learn Japanese _and_ chemistry at the same time."

"I'm helping you," assured Riki—in a thorny tone that earned her a stare.

"Slow down, we a team!"

Riki stopped immediately, raising her hands defensively. She restrained a frown, trying to look Audriane earnestly in the eye. The dirty-blonde's stare nearly melted into a glare, but she shut her mouth and went back to their notes. Audriane traced the words on the worksheet with a finger, reading aloud for Riki to follow along.

For the next ten minutes, Audriane struggled with a few Japanese words here and there. On some, Riki was patient and explained to her or corrected her Japanese. Near the end, however, she wanted to speed things up, and from then on, often wrote the answers down without explaining in Japanese how she got them. She was eager to text again.

"Please help," said Audriane as calmly as she could, pointing the eraser of her pencil at a specific problem.

Riki had on just started texting, casually throwing her sweater over her pile of notebooks. She faked to write with one hand, the other under her sweater as she texted. Professor Tokiha merely marched around, arms behind his back, checking on the pairings. He smiled at Riki and Audriane with only a flitting glance at their paperwork, then moved on.

Such a nice man; Riki frowned; a man that should have been more stringent, for it butchered his credibility. It made her feel frustrated toward his efforts as a teacher, but sorry for him as well . . .

And yet she couldn't resist the need to finish the gossip she was texting Asuke about Sakuya and Ojiru breaking up, how this was her chance to see if her slightly blossoming feelings for Ojiru would be confirmed by making the pounce. That they weren't just a "friendship". That she just wasn't "crushing" or "infatuated" by him.

"Riki!" snapped Audriane, who stabbed a spot on the paper with her finger. "Help!"

Riki held up a finger, frowning weakly. "Hold on," she said, texting furiously. Ojiru just texted her about being stuck in the principal's office, something about a "hot woman" who had just walked in for an interview for the position of receptionist. She would have been mortified by the fact that she was still hoping to date her own friend, a guy who leered at other women after a just-breakup—but she liked him. She had realized the pulse of jealousy she felt when he dated Sakuya.

Meanwhile, Audriane waited, but couldn't long enough. After about a minute, she snatched Riki's phone, threatening a glance at the teacher, whose back was turned. Riki gasped, glaring at her.

Ok, that was _too_ much.

"Give it back, Dupont!" hissed Riki, reaching for it.

Audriane stood up so abruptly to dodge, that her chair toppled backwards. Professor Tokiha turned around.

…

Gun parallel to her face, the assassin crept along school grounds; her eyes swept the perimeter for any slight movement. She disappeared behind a tree, crouching low into the crotch of its thick roots. Glided behind a row of outdoor lockers. Sat behind the prickly, heavy branches of flat-headed bushes lining the outside walls of the school.

She took out a pocket mirror and lifted it, looking into its reflection. It showed who stood inside the school's front office.

...

All Riki wanted to do was throw her phone right at her lab partner's head—when she'd get it back from Mr. Tokiha.

As she marched toward detention, she smacked the palm of her hand against the wall, cursing under her breath. Then anger took over reason, and she slapped the wall so hard it stung, and shook her hands and hissed.

Sure, she should have helped more, but at least she _had_ helped at all. It was just a few texts! Audriane's reaction was reasonable—but her anger? To rat Riki out like that? It was like breaking the law: who rats their fellow classmates _texting_? Every teenager knew that.

Riki passed classrooms echoing with muffled laughter and lectures. She approached a hallway intersection of white brick walls, with faded blue triangular tiles shining caution, just recently mopped by the janitor.

The detention room was in the back of the principal's office, just down the hallway. Riki stopped and leaned against the wall to kill time, feeling the detention slip in her pockets. She felt around, then desperately searched her red hoodie.

"Shit. Where is it?" she whispered.

…

"Go," ordered the squad leader, with a wave of his hand.

His Knights of Japan trotted through the wooded backyard of the high school. Groups of them positioned behind trees, behind walls, the trashcans, behind roofed benches in the baseball field.

The head Knight touched his ear to his shoulder. A voice cracked into his ear: "Alright, everybody, let's kill these sonofabitches." He glanced at his masked, suited men on top of a long row of rooftops that split from the main building, impressive architecture boasting overlapping, geometric shapes like pieces fitting together in a jigsaw puzzle. Knights crouched next to windows. Others casually walked into bathrooms to hide in the stalls, awaiting orders.

The sniper on top of the school reported in his earpiece, "Target locked."

….

_Enter the scenery of love, lovers are in pain, they blame and pick on each other._

Riki whined to herself, slowly walking the other way toward the cafeteria. Maybe she dropped her iPod back there on her way to detention. She also hoped one of her friends would have Lunch Period B, just to kill time.

When she stepped into the cafeteria, she looked across at the clock high up on the wall above the lunch line. It's been five minutes: Mr. Tokiha would contact the office to make sure she was actually there . . .

_Damn_. Masami wasn't in Lunch Period B. Riki didn't see any other of her closest friends, either. Now she really wished she had her iPod; she could have sat in the outside food court and killed time with her music. Besides, she couldn't get that one song out of her head.

The melody rippled through her mind, almost tangible strings and piano, leaving heavy prints in her brain.

_You played melodies of love . . . forgotten phrases, tender and sweet . . ._

The assassin snuck into the school and hid in a locker.

_Come a little bit closer, don't stay in the shadows, my boy._

"Kill them all," commanded the head Knight. He signaled.

_The melody's fading . . . Now or never, love will go—_

Footsteps.

_I'll be there, by your side; share your fears in silent redemption. _

Riki heard someone walking by, hoping it wasn't Mr. Tokiha. To keep from looking jittery or suspicious, she stayed there, leaned casually against the wall.

Someone stepped around the corner that was back-to-back to her wall. Black boots clapped the tile floor, buckles strapped around the ankles, clinking beautifully. Riki's eyes flickered up bare legs to a black skirt. A long greenish-brown jacket swung over a red turtleneck sweater. The newcomer had almost walked by Riki without noticing her but stopped and turned her head.

"Oh. Hey. Riki."

_Touch my lips, hold me tight . . ._

The upperclassman raised a hand to wave. She beamed.

"Sakuya," said Riki, smiling neutrally.

_Live in vanity, for a while . . ._

Riki had a bit of ego. She sometimes saw herself quite popular and pretty, so when she first met Sakuya she she actually didn't like her. Simply put, the sophomore was competition. But after meeting her when she dated Ojiru—and at random mixers— Riki didn't find the sophomore too horrible. She had doubted Sakuya paid her much attention, too. In a way, in her mind, that put them on common ground.

"Oh, right! Perfect timing running into you," said Sakuya. "I think this is yours."

The brunette fished something rectangular from her pocket, the wavy curls from her bushy mane poking her oval-shaped face, bouncing just above her shoulders. Riki applauded this girl's choice of hairstyle. _And_ her mixed ethnicity made her interesting; her freckled, yet flawless creamy skin and bright blue eyes that most Japanese girls envied won her a favorable amount of friends. A transfer student like Audriane, but been here for half a year, with a Japanese father running for mayor who had flown her over here to Tokyo from her American mother in Washington.

Sakuya pulled out Riki's iPod, which was adorned with colorful bubbles and specks. She had coiled Riki's sushi ear buds around the electronic.

"Oh thank god!" said Riki. "Where'd you find it?"

She took it, as Sakuya pointed over her shoulders. "Right here actually. On the floor. I was walking in for lunch when I saw it. Akane was this close to declaring 'Finders, keepers'." Sakuya paused, smiling, as if expecting appraisal. "Um . . . I also listened to it. It was in the middle of playing a song. I didn't know you liked Anime."

"You _listened_?" said Riki, eyes bulging.

Sakuya shrugged, smiling meekly. "I was curious."

Riki's beating heart seemed to reverberate throughout her body. Even though Anime was part of Japan's culture, her friends didn't care for it, so she tried not to. _This_ side of her personality was a secret. To the grave.

"Music is music, right?" complimented Sakuya, shrugging. "Doesn't matter if it's sad, happy, classic, video game, or Anime. _Ha_—I'm, um, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to intrude—you're ok with that, right . . .?"

Riki was not, however. And yet, Sakuya's eyes burned right into her; Riki felt belittled in front of them. When she'd first met her, she thought nothing of the girl. They only talked—and seldom—to each other in the presence of Ojiru and mutual friends at mixers. But when they did, the atmosphere was casual. Ever since, those eyes always left an impression on Riki. Like blue fire, tingling Riki's face—so hot, like the sun, she'd go blind and melt if she looked too long, too deep.

Just looking at godliness was too much, Riki was beginning to understand why Ojiru dated her. Eyes so easy to get lost in, but poisonous to go near. No, _poisonous_ wasn't a good word—more like, _addicting_ . . . So why did Ojiru break up with her?

"I know what you're thinking," said Sakuya, feigning a smile. "How horrible of me for breaking up with one of your friends. And why."

Riki made a face, not knowing what to say. "Uh, I heard it was pretty mutual, though, so . . .? I mean, still . . . are you ok?"

Sakuya shrugged, smiling thinly. "I mean, I _did_ care about him—I hope he's ok. Funny, you should be asking him that . . ."

Riki opened her mouth but said nothing.

"But yeah," said Sakuya, "I'm fine. Thank you."

More awkward silence.

"So . . . why?" asked Riki, shrugging. Although she was glad they broke up, she still didn't like the idea of someone hurting Ojiru—even though the asshole was checking out the new receptionist. People had their ways of coping or moving on.

Sakuya laughed dryly, with a huge shrug. "Look, if you wanna know everything, do you want to just go to the mall sometime?" She lightly tapping Riki's arm. "I could use a friend after a breakup—a _new_ friend, a fresh outsider from the whole relationship drama so-called 'friends' vulture over. Someone to tell me that it's ok to be single."

Riki chuckled, hands on her hips as she looked around uncertainly. "Sure."

"No pressure. Whenever you have the time." With that, Sakuya walked back into the cafeteria where her friends waved her down back to their table. Riki glanced after her, cut short when Sakuya quickly looked back over her shoulders. Everyone at the table followed her glance. Riki recognized Akko and Kenji. Barely knew Hiroshi and Chikane. Didn't know who those other two were . . .

In that glimmer of a second, Riki saw Sakuya looking back at her, smiling and waving awkwardly. Riki shot her hand up and down as if wanting to wave goodbye, but failing. However, she realized she was excited to have a new friend, and hurried back toward the principal's office.

7


	2. Chapter 2: Crimson

**Author's Note:** listen to the live concert version of Noir's "Canta Per Me" for this next scene.  watch?v=wRWLU8n8sxA

Chapter 2

Crimson

The sound of shattering glass, chiming like bells, can be a beautiful thing. But not when there are screams, too.

Footsteps drummed in the distance like echoing rainfall. Every head in Tokiha's science class perked up, eyes bulging. They waited. Was that really what they thought it was?

Another gunshot.

Everyone shot up from their seats, or remained frozen bent over their tables from their gossip. They listened for it again.

Men shouting, but also screaming. From one direction, then another.

Then, different kinds of screaming—beyond screaming, so inhuman and terrifying, like a slaughter.

There was a muffled sound as the intercom turned on. They recognized their principal's voice. What started steady became shaky, as he whispered, "Everyone, this is a _real_ Lock-Down! Stay in the corners and lock your doors NOW—!"

There was a gunshot, and the sickening, moist _thunk_ of something finding flesh.

The class panicked. Mr. Tokiha hushed them, reminding them of their Lock-Down rehearsals. He locked the door; then he herded everyone to huddle in one corner far from the door and shaded windows.

Pounding footsteps. One giant gasp as everyone held their breath. Footsteps—_more_, actually. Men shouting strategically. Then, a few bullets went loose; a boy cried outside in the hallway. A thump against metal, what must have been lockers.

Suddenly, the two rectangular slits of windows framing the door, cracked. Bangs and poundings, almost beastly that they forgot it was just men on the other side. Men aiming to kill. The whole class erupted in cries. Students covered their heads with shaking hands.

Mr. Tokiha happened to look up across the room in horror. "Audriane?" he whispered.

The transfer student had remained paralyzed in the corner opposite from theirs. She just stood there, back pressed deep into her corner as if expecting the walls to make a bullet-proof cocoon around her. She stared back at him; he seemed to lack expression, yet sheened with sweat, his eyes quivering.

A human connection between Audriane and Tokiha that would haunt her for as long as she drew breath. She thought, _Coward_, yet couldn't blame him. She never dropped Tokiha's gaze, even as the windows seemed to cave in, shattering. As men in dark suits smashed the hanging fragments of glass with their guns. As their grinning, bone-white masks barely fitted sideways through. As they turned their guns on Audriane's classmates the moment they heard the startled children across from her.

Despite her willpower, Audriane screamed. Her own shriek surprised even her, sent an icicle of fear through her as she miraculously bolted between the men that barged in and the men that followed in that split second they shot her classmates.

Pulsing with adrenaline, Audriane ran. She couldn't tell if her sucking, heaves of breath was from the horror she'd just witnessed, or from the scream of exhaustion from her body—

A bullet slashed the side of her arm. She wailed, but her adrenaline distracted from the burning pain. She shouted to herself: _run, run, run, run!_ Such simple, repetitive words were the only sane comprehension that brought her reassurance.

Her heart already felt as though it'd been pried from her chest, now desperately beating. Her throat was an icy dryness, too robbed of air to bother screaming, knowing it brought with it chances of being discovered . . . by who, she didn't want to know.

Audriane didn't know why, but she stopped. She realized she was by the cafeteria.

It wasn't even when she saw the bodies, but the _second_ just before—when she had the slightest hint of what she was _about_ to see—that made her barf. Audriane keeled over and stumbled against the doorframe. She recognized some of her classmates. She mentally fought the urge to vomit, feeling as though someone was trying to kick a boulder out of her stomach. She could barely breathe. The overall realization that this was all happening became so overwhelming that her world tilted, her vision fuzzed.

She felt ashamed for not looking. She didn't want to see the blood. The inhuman, terror-stricken faces. The bodies. The eyes . . . eyes of the dead. Of her _classmates_. Just like in the movies: open and white and still. Like glowing white holes burning deep in the back of her mind, _blaming_ her . . .

"THERE SHE IS!"

Audriane didn't bother looking—she couldn't afford to. She broke into a staggered run, holding her stomach, everything becoming a blur. She tried to get oxygen in her lungs, but knew she couldn't last much longer. She had never been athletic. She wondered if it was easier to turn and fight, get it over with.

She didn't know where she was going. She just ran wherever it looked like no one was around. She just wanted to be alone, and yet she didn't.

She heard a gunshot, and it sounded very close—but she didn't look. She kept running. She heard men's voices, shouting to each other. Met by gunfire. At each other. Were they confused from all the panic, on who was who?

As she snuck by a row of lockers, one of them opened, and someone stepped out. All Audriane saw was a gun pointed at her, and she screamed, covering her head. At the same time, on her other side, she saw a man. He saw her. He lifted his gun. But he was shot by the person in the locker. They both missed Audriane and must have killed each other—that's what she hoped, as she kept running.

Before she knew it, her survival instincts brought her to the principal's office. She panicked. _What am I doing here?_ _This was where the gunshots were first heard! _

The sudden thought of the principal, shot in his own office, threatened an inevitable barf.

Audriane remembered her situation and tried to concentrate. _No killers go back to the first place where they killed, right?_ She looked around. No one . . . save for Mrs. Czarnecki slumped over her chair; the teacher who taught only senior classes, draped lifelessly over the lounge coffee table; and an unrecognizable blonde woman lying across her stomach, bleeding.

She'd only been to the principal's office a few times since arriving as the new transfer student—and yet she remembered the small room behind the front desk, next to the principal's door. She could hide in there . . .

Audriane ran inside—only to find out someone else was in the detention room. When she saw that person slam into her, she wanted to scream, but couldn't for some reason. She felt the force of their colliding bodies. Then, her attacker stepped back to see the damage.

Her lab partner.

"Riki?" said Audriane. Not gasped, not shrieked, not whispered—_said_.

Without knowing why, Audriane looked down. Was that a wooden _pencil_ stuck in her side? Sticking in and out of her side, at a slant. A traditional Number 02 pencil. So small and seemingly insignificant, it almost seemed benign and plain _ridiculous_.

She realized she couldn't feel anything. But the more Riki repeated, "Shit, shit, shit!" the more Audriane felt cold. Then, pain sunk in, like sharp teeth ripping her guts out. As everything started to fade, her last thoughts were, How inhuman people look at times like this, Riki's face gnarled in belligerence . . .

Audriane swayed, then collapsed to her knees, gasping and wheezing heavily. In the corner of her vision, Riki was covering her mouth.

The turn of events was unfathomable, it didn't seem to sink in. Even though there was no blood—clogged with a pencil—Riki looked away from what could have been gore; she was queasy with dread, watching the color drain from Audriane's face. Distraught and horror, like beasts inside her, were ready to burst free of their prison.

Shouts.

A bullet missed Riki, with a beautiful _zip_! She wheeled around and retreated to the farthest corner of the room behind the tables collected in a square-shaped formation. Footsteps poured in like passing rain—except they stopped by Audriane. Two of them. There was the sound of a click. All Riki could see was the lower half of Audriane's body slumped against the plastic chair the detention teacher normally sat on to watch the students. She heard Audriane's breathing quicken, then whimper; Riki found herself breathing heavily with her, as if her heart been lodged in her throat. The guilt, the fear . . .

"Hold on, I could've swore I saw another girl."

Fear was like thick water, spider-crawling down her neck, as one of the pairs of feet walked over hurriedly. Riki didn't have time to think as her survival instincts took over. She shot up onto her feet and heaved the table over her head. She heard a yowl, and guessed from the cursing that the table landed sideways onto his foot.

There were little explosions as bullets pierced her fortress. The gunfire was deafening, as she hit the floor, covering her head, screaming, praying to sink into the floor and disappear.

More bullets riddled her table, followed by silence.

Then footsteps.

She didn't know whether to open her eyes or not. She didn't want to see what was in store for her, but she couldn't just lie there. Riki opened her eyes reluctantly. She saw a roll of tape on the floor just a foot away from her, probably from when she tossed the table. It was bigger than her hand, in a hard and shiny case. Riki snatched it, and without thinking, jumped over the table and roared, raising it.

She only saw eyes and a startled face. Then the floor, face-first—her opponent had dodged her. Riki now lay there across her stomach, body bruising, adrenaline making it hard to control herself from shaking.

All of that in seconds. Followed by a click, then a gunshot.

Riki screamed, screwing her eyes shut.

But she felt nothing. No pain. No warm blood. Just her cold sweat, and then her hand brushing against the tape she had planned to smash against her attacker's head.

Her ears were pounding, from both the deafening gunshot and her heartbeat. She held her breath, awaiting another attempt against her life.

All she heard was gasping, as if someone was catching their breath.

Then. "That . . . should keep you from shooting at me _goddammit_!"

The voice belonged to a woman. After everything she'd been through, Riki didn't want to look. She just wanted to close her eyes and fall asleep—but curiosity turned her head. She saw a bullet hole in the floor next to her, making her look up over her shoulders. She slowly and cautiously sat up, arms shaking under the weight of her body.

A blonde woman with her hair in a bun stood over her, panting, mostly with anger. "I can't believe . . . you tried to kill me . . . with _tape_!" she hissed through her teeth, holding her side.

Riki saw that two men were dead; one lay in a crumpled heap, his fingers twitching; the other guy . . . his upper body was propped against the wall, torso planted against the wall, head hanging back, and his legs twisted in nonsensical directions.

Riki looked back at her savior. Even with the stranger's rich red shirt, Riki still spotted that growing, haunting dark splotch of blood.

The longer the woman stood there, knees buckled, holding her side, gun in her hand, the more Riki recognized her.

_She was lying on the floor in the principal's office! That makes no sense! Was she faking it?_

"Were you . . . the new receptionist?" whispered Riki.

The woman raised her gun as if to make a point, which made Riki twitch, but the woman only said, "What do you _think_?" She winced at the pinch in her side, but otherwise, didn't look deeply wounded.

Riki opened her mouth to say something, but the sound of shouts in the hallway crushed all false sense of salvation. She panicked, looking back at the woman warily yet with hope.

The blonde shot a glance at Audriane barely breathing by the doorway. "We need to get her out of here—both of you," she said hastily. She whipped around, wasting no words nor time, as she barked, "Grab her! Out the window!"

The woman picked up a spare gun from the men she'd killed, and tossed it to Riki. She almost didn't catch it, partly because she never expected in her life to catch a gun, hold a gun, _see_ a gun—and because it was heavy. So foreign, in her world of boring classes . . .

In those seconds of catching the gun, Riki felt a tear in her reality.

"HEY!" roared her savior, who had taken cover by the door, glaring at her. "When I said it, I meant _now_!" The blonde leaned out and fired out toward the hallway.

The sound of gunfire jolted Riki out of her state. She clumsily held the giant gun in one hand, and rushed over and supported Audriane under the armpits. The large gun in her small hand in comparison wasn't helping, so she tucked it into the front of her jeans even though the idea made her uncomfortable.

She couldn't believe how crushingly _heavy_ the average teenager was. But when the gunfire seemed louder—_closer_—Riki's mind seemed to deny all comprehension of gravity, and heaved. Her efforts to drag Audriane to the windows were pitiful, but she got them to the window. There, Riki placed the gun at her feet, and turned her attention toward outside, toward freedom. She tugged at it, but it was jammed, one of the cheap flaws of this school. She cursed, curling her fingertips to adjust to the latch's small size. She pried again, but it resisted.

The glass suddenly broke next to her, spraying the smallest bits into her face. Riki turned her face away on reflex. Without wasting time, she positioned herself behind Audriane. When she thought _dragging_ the girl was enough of a workout, she was proven wrong as she tried to lift the girl up to the window. She squatted and wrapped Audriane's arm around her shoulders, and pushed up with her feet; her body trembled after all it's been through. The sound of gunshots made her burst with adrenaline and keep trying.

The window cracked again at the sound of another gunshot, making Riki jump again. She almost stared hopelessly at it. Then, she snapped out of it, picked up her gun on the floor, and aimed at the same cracks. She fired five times, trying to ignore the heavy buck of the gun.

"GO!" roared the woman, timing her shots from her cover.

Despite how tired her body was, Riki lifted Audriane out, almost with a roar. She managed to sling her classmate halfway over the windowsill. Her classmate gasped as her body grazed the remaining teeth of glass protruding from the corners of the window. Riki quickly clambered out, gritting her teeth to ignore her own cuts.

She planted her feet on the grass, grateful they'd been on the first floor. She turned to pull Audriane out but hesitated when the girl cried out in pain. The pencil was still there. Unfortunately, with the sound of gunfire getting closer from inside the room, Riki couldn't waste time on sympathy. She was forced to pull the rest of Audriane out the window—hard. The dirty-blonde crashed on her side, crushing her own arm, and the pencil wound. Panicking, Riki wrapped Audriane's arm around her shoulder, and—

"Nice try," shouted someone.

Riki looked up, frozen.

There were _more_ of them? At least five! How many could there possibly be? What was going on that demanded _this_ many mysterious men to raid an innocent high school?

And what _horrendous_ masks. Stretched almond-shaped eye holes, and exaggerated crescent smiles. Riki felt an incomprehensible rage, giving her beating heart new purpose.

_Cowards_.

She gently settled Audriane down next to her. Then, she stood there, her emotions a twisted mix of agony and desire for revenge. Her enemies retracted just an inch, as if shocked by her boldness. Taking heart to the slight falter, Riki screamed and charged.

The Knights, however, raised their guns. At the same time, Riki heard faint screams and gunfire from behind, a chilling synchronization that stopped her in tracks.

Riki felt the gun in her hand, shaking in her grip. What was she thinking—?

Someone shouted from behind: "It's called a gun—you shoot things till they DIE!"

There was an explosion as two of the Knights were thrown back like rags in the air. Three more slowly fell onto their backs. Another gunshot went off, crumbling one more enemy to his knees. He sat there, head lolling backwards in a grotesque, unforgettable way. The sprays of blood were too mesmerizing, too horrifying, that Riki couldn't move.

She finally gasped, as if remembering to breathe. She erected her arm, aiming her gun at the last Knight. He stood there, hands raised slowly yet reluctantly. He seemed to respond not to her, but to behind her.

Riki slowly and cautiously turned her head, just in case the Knight made any moves. She nearly jumped when she sensed someone behind her—it was the blonde, standing there in front of the broken window, her own gun aimed at the Knight.

Her lips curled into an ungrateful scowl as she eyed the gun in Riki's hands. "Really, _you_ . . .?" Her tone almost sounded accusing, her glower drifting up to Riki's face.

_What did that mean?_ Riki opened her mouth to vocalize these thoughts, but the woman shot the last Knight. He went limp, then collapsed with the nauseating sound of a crunch. His mask flew off, wobbling next to his bleeding face.

Resisting gagging reflexes, Riki looked away, only to notice that four more men running toward them.

"No—WHY?" screamed Riki, stepping backwards.

Behind her, the blonde gave an exasperated sigh. "Dammit—KIRIKA!"

It wasn't a curse, but a summon. The Knights barely made it to them before they were shot down. Riki looked around, expecting more enemies to cave in on them. But only one person did, and she was not in a mask or black suit. She was a girl probably a few years older than the teenagers. In fact, Riki realized the newcomer was Japanese: dark, short mop of ragged hair with full bangs that needed trimming. A plain, roundish face that was slightly tanner than Riki's, with lips like a porcelain doll, and gentle yet mysterious brown eyes.

She stood there in front of Riki, looking at her. Her calmness frightened Riki, more than the gun in her hand—however, that didn't stop Riki from wondering how this student got hold of a gun. Did she acquire it under the same circumstances as her?

"I haven't . . . seen you around here," said Riki, catching her breath.

"No," said the young girl. "I _was_ a student at one point, though."

Such a young voice. It was almost fragile; sweet like honey, but thick with knowledge beyond her years. The strange combo of vibes she gave off was almost haunting.

Nothing made sense. Riki just wanted to scream. She looked back and forth between the two young women with guns, the bodies around them. As if putting everything together didn't work out, the last of her logic slimmed down to aiming her gun at the Japanese girl.

"Who the hell are you, and what's going on?" she yelled, throwing a hostile glance at the blonde.

The older woman was already supporting Audriane up. "Look," she began, looking toward the baseball field. "Now's not the time for proper introductions—."

Riki nodded her own gun curtly, as if to motion the blonde. "Yes it is. Tell me what the hell is going on?"

The blonde curtsied dramatically; it would have been perfect hadn't she been holding up Audriane. "Would you like tea with that?" she snarled sarcastically. "Why don't we invite the enemy to our little tea party?"

Riki glared at her, gripping her gun tighter. This woman's sarcasm wasn't getting them anywhere.

But the blonde's partner—"Kirika"—said, "Please. We need to get you outta here—."

A ring of blasts circled their feet on the ground. More Knights came from the baseball field or tennis court, but they were far enough for the four to converse a quick get-away.

"You have guns, now use them!" shouted the blonde, aiming and firing.

Her bullets missed the closest Knight, who charged. Left with no choice, the blonde dropped Audriane and threw herself out of his way. Riki automatically rushed over to prop Audriane up, while the woman fought their enemy. He pounced for her, slashing at her with a flashy dagger. She slipped under his swing fluidly, and hammered her _high heel_ into the side of his neck. He seemed to hang there, as if frozen by time, before crashing over like a slow, falling tree. The blonde fired down his comrade that tried to follow up.

Riki gawked. She'd forgotten the woman had been wearing heels this whole time.

Several Knights charged toward the other petite woman, leaving an opening for Riki, who stepped in front of Audriane and fired blindly. Her bullets stung a man in the knees. Another shot pinned a man straight in his chest. Before Riki could reload—god, she didn't know _how_—another Knight charged.

Kirika woman charged at him from the side, as if to intercept his collision with Riki—as if to literally _slam_ into him. Instead, she leaped over him in a sideways _aerial_ cartwheel, and fired. His run toward Riki became mangled and creepy, like a zombie desperately trying to reach its next meal with a missing leg. He fell face-first, body like rubber; his legs flew up in the air behind him, then slapped the ground lifelessly.

Riki feared the body at her feet, as if it would spring back to life and drag her to hell with it.

The battlecries from this fight were replaced by something worse: students wailing inside. They became frantic, voices scattering in different directions. Some quieted into whimpers, some gurgles, loud enough to hear from where the four women stood. Then the rooms lit up with gun blasts. Boys and girls screamed.

These reminded Riki of something for some reason.

"Sakuya . . ." she whispered, leaning toward the window she just came from.

Someone grabbed her wrist. Riki was turned and forced to stare into the blonde's eyes. "You just survived a school massacre, Riki. _You_."

How they knew her name sliced her thoughts only for a moment—because something else was more important. This time, for some reason, Riki dared not say it aloud, as if questioning herself.

_Sakuya._

Riki tugged.

"Don't be a hero, kid—!"

"What are you—we . . . we could be saving more in there!" shrieked Riki, confused and hurt by their resistance.

She felt cool metal against her temple.

"What are you doing?" screamed Riki, wriggling out of the woman's grip despite the gun to her head.

She wouldn't shoot her—she had just saved her! That's what she was here for, right?

"You'll just trap yourself in there," said the blonde, her voice steady but alarming.

"Let _go_, we could have saved a bunch of them by now—!"

A boom went off in Riki's ear, silencing her into darkness.


	3. Chapter 3: The Name of an Ancient Fate

Chapter 3

The Name of an Ancient Fate

"Noir?" whispered Audriane.

"That's right," said the blonde, switching to French as if to comfort Audriane. "Expect that a lot, to be called that a lot."

She brushed bangs out of her eyes. Audriane couldn't help but stare: something seemed off about those bangs. Odd. Unnatural. They tapered from flat-across bangs to long, sharp bangs. _So_ needed trimming.

"To anyone who asks you," continued her savior, "you also are no longer 'Audriane Dupont'. Just call yourself . . . I dunno, 'Adele'. Simply, Adele. Not that it matters _too_ much since you're not gonna be around people—but don't trust _anyone_, not even your own damn grandma. Understand?"

Audriane barely nodded.

Mireille leaned toward her, eyes serious. "You are 'Adele' and 'Noir'. _Alright_?"

"Yes," said Audriane. "And _your_ alias?"

"No, you can just call me by my real name. Mireille Bouquet."

"Why trust _you_, stranger?"

Mireille walked over to the kitchenette behind the granite counter that split from the living room. "You shouldn't trust me. That's a lesson." She almost said it light-heartily, as if proud that Audriane had asked that. Mireille said nothing else, silenced to the clink of glass and clattering pots on oven tops.

Audriane sat there at the round mahogany table by the hotel window. It was all she could do for the past day and a half. After the massacre, they had hid here in the hotel to hide with decent room service, while Mireille and Kirika had been out "talking to sources", locking both students inside—Riki recovering unconscious, Audriane huddled in a corner in a daze, listening to the news on the TV reporting the body counts, the police search for any traces of the criminals, the aftermath mourning.

And Audriane' emotions hadn't changed. They were scattered: appreciation for these two, disbelief at their malicious tone, fear of what was to come next. Seriously, what now? Where did she go from here? What would happen to Riki? Most importantly, why were they targets?

She snuck a glance to the cracked door that led to Riki's bedroom. Then their savior returned with a tray of teacups and mini plates, simple Chinese porcelain rimmed with chipped golf leaf paint, and intricate flowered patterns with curling, prickly leaves stretched across the grooves running down their sides.

"Is Riki going to be alright?" asked Audriane, accepting a palm-sized teacup.

"Her name," said Kirika, "will be 'Miku'. Just in case."

Before Audriane could say anything, Mireille blurted, "Hey . . . didn't you say _she_ was the one who stabbed you with that pencil?"

"It was an accident." Audriane's hand automatically went down to the hole in her side, but there was tethered bandage around her waist. It felt stiff but reassuring, as if sealing off the prickling pain of the splinters the pencil left in there. However, for some reason, she felt embarrassed. She knew she shouldn't . . . but it was Mireille's tone. She was hard to read; why did she have to be so . . . blunt, almost _mean_, about everything—especially when she had insisted that the trauma Audriane's body was experiencing only fooled her mind into exaggerating the physical pain she felt?

Feeling safe and feeling _comfortable_ around Mireille were beginning to feel like two different things. Still, for some reason, Audriane felt the drive to understand who her saviors were, even though instinct told her these kind of people had to be the way they were for a reason.

Kirika's arrival smoothed out the awkward silence. She joined them, holding a teapot by its handles that were curved and shaped like silly ears, with a lotus sitting on top of the puny lid.

While Kirika set down the teapot, she was the first person Audriane stared at. She never asked if Kirika was the one who hid in the locker and shot the other gunman, saving her. She didn't know why she didn't bring it up, as she watched them quietly chew on the biscuits piled on one of the mini pates. Mireille tapped her cup with a long, slendor spoon, then stirred. Kirika pulled out the tea bag and sagged it on a mini plate, which leaked, yet with a delectable fragrance. Side by side, the two drank their brown-red Red Basil tea, eyes closed.

Were these quiet women drinking tea really just save them? It was such a sight, Audriane almost wanted to giggle—but still . . .

Just before sipping her tea, Audriane saw her reflection staring back inside her cup: a sweaty, dirt-stained stranger with bags under her eyes. It wasn't just that: her eyes had this distant look in them. Eyes that had seen too much.

Audriane whispered, "Why?"

The assassins looked at her. Mireille, so hardened, Kirika, so . . . Audriane couldn't put her finger on it, but whatever lay behind those eyes made her marvel. She looked at both women more intensely, realizing they were used to this. How strange that looked to her, how normal it seemed to them.

This _really _was their _life_.

"Why?" blurted Audriane. "Why did this all happen? What _is_ Noir? And why us?"

Troubled by the hurt on Audriane's face, Kirika looked sideways at her partner. "Mireille . . ."

The French's eyes had long been closed, as if expecting the annoying questions. She sipped her tea, her lukewarm voice echoing into her teacup: "Don't look at _me_."

While Kirika stared down her partner patiently, Audriane studied _her_. The petite woman had short hair that was growing past her neck, but not quite touching her shoulders. Her bangs seemed a bit too long, which she sometimes swept to the side behind her ear, but they continued to overwhelm her eyebrows. She wore a sleeveless hoodie, its indigo losing its vibrancy. There was a hint of a thin black sweater underneath, revealing a slit of her stomach. Her denim skirt—or was it _skorts_?—was short, but not scanty, leading down to pink, aging clogs that apparently proved useful during all that running around.

How they must be used to this, shooting people in order to save people. The way Mireille sighed. How collected yet thoughtful Kirika appeared during the rescue. As Audriane watched them sip their tea, she couldn't blame them for wanting some peace and quiet after what they put themselves through to save her. The ambience in the room was so blissful, it almost erased all feelings of dread. But it felt like a façade, too. Perhaps, considering their lifestyle, they expected the peace to crumble at any moment—so they enjoyed every moment, even quiet tea time . . .

However, Audriane decided to break that silence. "Um. I hear no answers yet."

Mireille looked up from sipping her tea. "Drink your tea." She nodded curtly. "Kirika went through a lot to make that for you."

Any remote need to understand and sympathize with Mireille—_gone_.

Audriane exploded: "_WE_ BEEN THROUGH A LOT! Why? Tell me! We have _time_—so talk!" She held her breath, astonished by her own outburst.

"_Now _isn'tthe time. You wouldn't be able to handle it. Not now."

_All that running around leaving us inside, and you have nothing to explain to us?_ thought Audriane. She felt her face scrunch into a scowl as she slowly slipped her tea. It seemed tasteless, now that Mireille's tongue added poison. Audriane didn't know why, but she thought about how Riki similarly treated her.

She winced, either at the thought of Riki texting or the accidental wound she gave her. She grunted, sliding her hand over her wound. The prickly splinters were still there, left by the pencil.

Mireille looked at her almost questioningly, but Audriane said nothing. She tried to remove negative thoughts toward her classmate. Crumble them into a paper ball and toss it away. After all, Riki just got shot in the neck, _grazed_ by the bullet—_she_ went through the worst, trying to protect herself _and_ Audriane—

Which was Riki's fault! She _was_ being stupid, trying to go back inside after all that trouble to get them out the window, with all those murders happening inside! Besides, what Kirika did to Riki was reasonable on her end. Ingenious. Although, it _did_ send a chill up Audriane's spine, that Kirika's accuracy didn't kill Riki but immobilized her. The power to _choose_ to cripple—if not, kill—with a bullet . . .

Audriane watched Kirika again. The girl was a sitting statue, but a walking enigma. She seemed different from Mireille.

"You've got a secret admirer," jested Mireille, cracking the biscuit between her teeth. Her legs were crossed, arms rested behind her against the wall. So dignified, nearly haughty, and yet Audriane was intrigued. She hated feeling this way after everything's that happened.

Kirika looked at her partner, then back at Audriane.

"Where you learn? Shoot like that?" asked the freshman.

Kirika lowered her gaze. "Where to begin?"

Before she could press on, they barely made out the sound of movement from the bedroom, followed by a whimper. Audriane stood up and walked over, slightly bent over due to her wound. She pushed through the door. Mireille and Kirika watched after her.

"She's an awfully nice girl," observed Mireille; Kirika smiled, nodding, almost as if with relief. "She's not gonna last long."

Kirika narrowed her eyes at Mireille, who shrugged, just as Audriane returned, grabbing a spare chair by the window and dragging it back to Riki's side. She sat there, leaning forward.

"Riki?" whispered Audriane.

Her heart seemed to stutter in her chest when her classmate finally opened her eyes. Riki looked around, but it didn't look like her eyes registered the images around her. Audriane just about opened her mouth to speak when Kirika joined them.

Kirika watched Riki with a face devoid of expression—but when she carefully undid the blotched bandages around Riki's neck, her lips trembled, and her eyes shook with emotion. Audriane watched the process. Something told her to pay attention closely, that she'd have to learn things like this for the future.

Audriane expected Kirka to voice some update on Riki's condition, but Kirika said nothing. She watched Riki stir in her sleep, but the girl did not awake.

Kirika left. She ignored Mireille's lingering glance, and went through the sliding door onto their veranda.

Then, Kirika slumped forward, gripping the railing.

"What have we done?" she croaked.

…

Screams. She felt the trickle of fear, but it was more like a dream. Yeah, just a dream. She was safe. Always has been. Nothing to worry about anymore. Riki relaxed again, succumbing to the thick cocoon of dark velvet.

Again, unearthly cries of anguish snuck into her consciousness. More like echoes, very distant, muted, as if down a long hallway.

Something pricked the comfort of sleep. Not a scream, but a shout. It was soft, feminine, but still worried. It became more familiar the more it said her name. Riki fought the deep sleep that had consumed her, clawed at the heavy weight pinning her down. It called for her again. She continued to struggle against the pull of sleep.

Finally, reality swept in, washed away the darkness. Choking in terror, Riki's eyes flew open. All she saw were smears of color. Blurs. She heard noise, then words, echoing, as if in a dreamy chamber. But they eventually became more audible, and just like that a wave of confusion hit her, blistered with panic. She willed her eyes to adjust to the new light, not as blinding as a supernova, but still bright like the sun.

Like the lens of a camera sharpening its focus, everything became clear. Riki realized she was indoors. She stared up at an orange-red ceiling. An exotic, tingly fragrance crept into her nostrils, igniting her senses.

"Riki!" said someone next to her.

She blinked, moving her head sideways—and everything hurt. Even before she had moved a muscle, she already felt her whole body bruised. Muscles taut, overstretched, overused. A tingle in her arms. Most of all, burning in her neck. She gasped softly, moaned. Riki tried to sit up, but it was too much to take in. The world seemed to spin; a swirling mist of faces and color and light—as if she'd rolled down a hill too long, like a blissfully ignorant child.

Despite her pain, Riki jerked up in bed, eyes mad. "Where am I?"

Audriane sat next to her, reaching over but too afraid to touch Riki. "It's ok. We're safe," she began, but Riki continued her maniacal fit.

"Please!" Kirika held Riki by the shoulder, slowly pushing her back down. "You're hurt. Don't strain yourself . . ."

The stranger's presence startled Riki, who stared at her confused. But that lasted a second before she thrashed, whacking Kirika's hand aside. She tried getting out of bed, but Kirika gently pushed her back down. This time, Kirika straightened out both arms and pushed harder against Riki's collarbone. Audriane contributed to the effort, clumsily grappling Riki's ankles.

"We _safe_, Riki," said Audriane softly, her voice cracking with panic. "No one's attacking you. We safe!"

"Please," begged Kirika. Her face wrinkled in earnest. "I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry."

Riki stilled, staring at Kirika, as if finally realizing she wasn't a man with a gun.

From behind, Mireille sighed and looked at Kirika. "How'd you do that?" she asked, gripping her hips. Kirika glared at her, a soft, caring one, but indeed glinting with contempt.

"It was me who shot you," said Kirika, turning to Riki. "My bullet grazed your neck so that the force would disable you, and the required blood loss would knock you out unconscious but keep you alive. It was the only way to save you."

Riki seemed to strain her eyes as she stared. But within seconds, she gritted her teeth and shot a look at Mireille, a thirty-something-year-old woman in a red shirt, with long, ruffled sleeves that drooped, exposing the beautiful roundness of her shoulders, and strings crisscrossing at the center. Her dark jean shorts had brown leather _x's_ on their sides.

And the blonde hair-bun. Suddenly, Riki remembered everything. The warped memories became solid, as if they stood in the flesh, as real as Audriane, Mireille, and Kirika next to her.

_"Receptionist!"_ gasped Riki, shifting her weight as if ready to pounce.

"Why do you keep glaring at me?" growled Mireille. "_I_ didn't shoot you. I would have loved to, but . . ."

Riki tensed, ready to reach out, but clamped her jaw to the throb in the side of her neck.

"Rest," said Audriane, the tension between Riki and Mireille palpable. "All that anger hurting the veins in your neck . . ."

Through gritted teeth, Riki said calmly as she could, "Talk!"

"What?" said Mireille.

"Before I punch your blonde brains out, TALK!" Riki winced.

"Funny, that's something you certainly know how to do—."

"We deserve an explanation!"

"A simple thanks would suffice."

If there was one thing Audriane agreed with Riki on, it was Mireille's attitude. She instantly felt Riki's agony. She turned, eyes hot on Mireille and Kirika.

"Riki's right," she said. "Now the time to explain. Who were they? Why did you save only us—?"

Riki whispered, "Or Sakuya?"

The professionals became quiet and puzzled.

"Unfortunately, we haven't been informed of a Sakuya," said Kirika with a pensive frown.

Audriane paused, blinking at Riki. "Sakuya?"

Something grotesque flashed before Audriane's mind's eyes. The cafeteria. She had recognized a few kids from her classes, having only been in Tokyo for more than a two weeks. But how could she forget one of the popular girls? How could she forget _those_ eyes? _Sakuya_. Her chest so bloody that Audriane couldn't locate where the bleeding was coming from. She was staring at Audriane, almost as if begging for help, with half-dead eyes. But then Audriane fled . . .

Such daunting, unforgettable eyes threw Audriane in a vortex of guilt. Especially when she watched Riki resist the tears brimming her eyes, her reddening nose, the taut lines forming around her frown. It was the lunatic look of someone who lost something.

Riki's voiced cracked. "You've only been informed of _us_. Just us two."

Mireille nodded. "You could say that."

"Who are you murderers?"

Mireille glared. "Choose your words carefully."

Riki didn't skip a beat, her throat rumbling low: "Talk, and maybe I'll shut up."

"We could have used that boldness during the gunfire," half-joked Mireille. Her lit expression sank when Audriane turned around with a berating expression.

"Now Riki awake," said Audriane, voice rising. "_Now_ the time to talk."

Upon this, Mireille sighed and put her cup on bedside table. It couldn't be avoided. Mireille had been hoping to explain on the airplane, just so they wouldn't attempt escape. However, the quickest flight she could grab was not until first thing in the morning at six. It was currently midnight—it was going to be another long night.

Might as well.

Mireille leaned her elbow upon the wooden flesh. "Yes, everything was intentional. They did it hoping one of the students was you two. We dunno who they are, sort of speak."

_"Help me help you."_

Mireille tried to mentally squeeze out flashbacks. It was an exhausting, physical effort. She ignored it, but her wavering eyes already drew in Riki and Audriane's.

"What is it?" asked Riki impatiently.

"_I can help. I can save you both."_

Should she tell them the truth? No, It would only scare them away. There was no way children at this age would go with it. No. Not ever.

But Mireille had to. She had to say _something_ . . .

She blurted, "The world needs you. Riki. Audriane."

_"What?"_ said Riki.

Mireille chose her words carefully; she felt the poison on her tongue as she murmured, "You have been chosen to . . ."

"Chosen?" repeated both freshmen.

"To save the world," blurted Mireille, almost embarrassed to say it. Having to have said it seriously was comical in itself, especially knowing this was how the _Soldats'_ viewed their ideals. Saving the world . . .

However, what she found ridiculous seemed to weigh heavy on the young girls. The silence was so sharp and tight, it felt like it could break like glass any second.

Riki sat there, sullen in thought, almost to the point of blanking out. Next to her, Audriane eyed the women the way a child worshipped yet questioned its parents. At the same time, both shared a sickening gamut of fear, desperation, confusion, sadness, hope.

Audriane's eyebrows knitted together. "You're . . . not joking?"

Mireille froze. Did they really believe what she had just said? She found her voice, though:

"They're after you, and they won't stop till you're dead," said Mireille, more strength in her words the more she pressed on. "You're safest with us. We can teach you how to fend for yourselves." She hadn't fully answered Audriane's question, but she hoped this dark spit of truth would convince them to listen. To go with them.

Riki blinked, returning to reality. Her eyes emitted an incredulous glow. "Is that really why this all happened? Because we—us two—are a potential threat? Us? We're _threats_, or something, and the world's after us for _that_? I don't buy it."

Mireille frowned, shrugging. "Your opinion. But it doesn't change the fact that people want you dead—and I don't need to prove _that_. So, you can choose to learn how to fire a simple gun . . . or die."

"None of it makes sense!" shouted Riki, wincing at fire in her neck. "Nothing happened till you two showed up!" She jabbed a finger at them. "It's not us they want, it's YOU! And you dragged us in—WHY?"

"Like it or not, you're involved," blurted Mireille. "Whether or not we came, you _were_ targets. Should I repeat myself?"

Her voice had risen. She had even startled herself. Mireille glanced at the two students, trying to gauge their expressions. Audriane's eyes were like daggers, her breath shuddering, and hiccups from her chest, making Mireille wonder if she won them over.

Riki trembled violently. She was lost in thought, her expression growing dark. Mireille dug deeper, and sensed that Riki struggled whether to believe them or not. The young girl felt her bruises and cuts, as if to ensure what Mireille said was real.

"No, it can't be . . ." whispered Riki, feeling around her body as if something was crawling all over her. "I didn't ask for this—I . . . I had a comfortable life." Her voice peaked to uncontrollable agony. "IT WAS GOOD! THEY WEREN'T MY REAL FAMILY, BUT THEY WERE GOOD TO ME! Why'd anyone wanna take that away from me? I haven't _done_ anything—I don't know those people, how do they know me—!"

"Yeah!" burst Audriane, infected by Riki's panic. "I just got to Japan! I just wanted a good education, something to do with it—!"

"Please, don't cry," began Kirika, face sagging with remorse.

"WHY DO PEOPLE DO THAT?" roared Riki, bursting into tears. She wiped the snot from her nose, veins in her temples and neck showing that she could burst any moment. "WHY DO GOOD PEOPLE HAVE TO DIE? She was a good person . . . she was—good . . .!"

Mireille and Kirika exchanged glances.

"All my friends," croaked Riki, covering her mouth. She started hyperventilating, as if reality finally found its roots around her throat. "They were good people! Ojiru, Masami, Asuke, Akko—stupid, so stupid, but good . . . Sakuya . . ."

Audriane shot up from her chair, almost right into Mireille's face. "Bring us home, NOW!"

Home. Family.

Mireille once knew this feeling, this hot passion of the heart, but only discovered that her chest had gone numb. She whispered, "I can't. They might have already found your families. We can't risk that."

She didn't know if what she said was true—but knowing the Soldats, it was possible. After all, _Mireille_ was living proof of that. But even though her throat went raw, even though her stomach went sour, Mireille continued to lie:

"They might be dead—you _have_ to stay with us."

"You don't know that!" urged Riki. "You're professionals! Stop them! Just like how you could have saved all those students—!"

Audriane looked at Riki. It was weird. She knew Riki was thinking about Sakuya. She'd seen Riki around all sorts of crowds, and from time to time, with that Sakuya sophomore. Then again, Audriane had only been around for a little while, so what did _she—_a mere international student—know?

But Riki had been bent on going back into the school. Even now. Audriane had watched the news with Mireille and Kirika earlier, shortly after they arrived at the hotel while Riki was unconscious. Almost a quarter of the school body was dead. Audriane didn't recall Sakuya reported among the wounded or living.

No. She couldn't let Riki endanger them, to go back just for a classmate. Audriane planned to _live_.

She was glad the professionals seemed to be on the same page.

"You can't go back there. Your safety is our top priority," said Kirika. "All you have . . . is each other."

Riki sobbed, wiping her face, then glancing at Audriane through a hazy vision. "I don't even know her! You expect me to stay with you and her in this hotel for who knows how long—?"

"No," said Mireille, so softly, that Riki and Audriane looked at her intently, enough to hush their sobs to whimpers and hiccups. "We expect you to _live_ with it."


	4. Chapter 4: Strangers

Chapter 4

Stranger

"Are we there yet?" repeated Riki, cheek squashed against her window.

"To think how old that saying is, and yet how annoying it can still be," said Mireille at the steering wheel.

"At least she's recovered," said Kirika,

She seemed more relieved than her partner, who clenched her teeth as Riki spoke out loud as if she forgot how close she was behind Mireille's seat:

"You really suck at answering questions," said Riki.

Mireille smacked the horn, swerving the van for a second, volume rising: "We just got in the car and we're ON OUR WAY TO THE AIRPORT."

"Riki," said Audriane, "you kill us before we get on the highway."

"It's not my fault she's quick-tempered," said Riki, shrugging indifferently. "I'm not trying to be annoying or anything—"

_"Really!"_ shouted Mireille.

"Do questions really kill you?"

Kirika interrupted, "The road, Mireille."

"The number one killer isn't a blade, but a wheel!" recited Riki matter-of-factly.

"There's more where that pain in your neck came from!" said Mireille. She merged into the middle lane. At the same time, a car on the other side wasn't paying attention and nearly cruised into them. She honked, having to stomp the accelerator and speed ahead before collision, and repeatedly beeped at the driver, even though he was far behind her.

_"Mireille,"_ said Kirika in a defeated sigh.

"No, really, I want our educated freshman in high school to figure this out," said Mireille as calmly as she could. "If we're going fifty miles per hour and we need to be at the airport by two o'clock—and it takes about thirteen hours and fifty-five minutes to Spain, exactly how many hours does it take to get there? You do the math."

Riki refused to entertain Mireille's sarcasm, and said nothing.

"Would you like that in multiple choice format?" added Mireille.

Audriane blurted, "She texts in class."

"Thank you. That explains everything."

Feeling gained up on, Riki threw up her hands in defeat, exasperated. She rolled her eyes, and even though it wasn't obviously directed at Audriane, her peer responded with a scowl.

It felt like the tension could swell up the van and blow it up any minute. Riki's attitude, especially, was involuntarily reminding Audriane of their last time together—as lab partners. Someone who couldn't handle authority or a sense of structure. Audriane felt guilty for even thinking back to that after all the trauma they went through—

There was a cold shiver through Audriane's heart. She had to stop thinking like that. Now, it was always about what would happen next, and she hated that feeling.

So she continued to watch Riki. She could only imagine it would get grim from here for the once-popular high school girl. From here on then, Riki was seeing the world differently now. Audriane feared it would worsen the indifference that already existed there, that it would affect future predicaments.

Audriane watched the world pass by. All that hard work to get into one of Tokyo's best high schools, reduced to nothing but flashes outside the window. She yearned to be again lost in the city glamour and ignorant bliss.

As the past events sunk in her heart, she realized this world wasn't what she thought. It was as if something had been planted there inside her heart from birth, had been unlocked, and was slowly rising up her body, up her throat, and seeping into her mind like water under a door. Like waiting for a tsunami to crash into your house.

And yet, she still refused to accept anything at the same time. Her clashing thoughts and feelings were becoming a tight thorn in her chest, and it made it hard to stand sitting there with all these strangers. She was restless. She wanted to get out of there as much as Riki did; slide open her door and roll out the car if it didn't mean dying on the spot. Despite these feelings, she had thought about it and knew she wouldn't know where to go from there.

All the while, Audriane sensed Mireille's eyes on them in her rear-view mirror.

…

_Why?_ thought Riki. Why did the good people die?

It couldn't be helped, but that last timid, brief, yet tender moment with Sakuya remained in her numbing heart. Perhaps it was the last genuine human connection, the last kindest, smallest gesture, she experienced before this dark wall slapped her in the face. So funny it was with a rival.

The words _It's not fair_ marched across the black film of her mind.

"It's not fair," whispered Riki.

She only heard a sigh from the front seat.

"Look," said Mireille, "we'll explain everything when we arrive at Etxarren. I promise you that."

"The what?" asked Audriane.

"You're awfully awake asking questions at four in the morning," said Mireille tiredly.

"It's Basque for 'stone house'," said Kirika.

"Basque?" asked Audriane.

"One of the most distinct cultural people of France and Spain," explained Kirika. "Their language, _Euskara_, shares no common roots with any other. Almost separate, almost alien, almost dead. Depending on where you are in the Basque Country. When they were first recorded in history, even before there was a name for them, they were known for defending their land and culture, making complex choices about the degree of independence that was needed to preserve their way of life, while looking to the rest of the world for commercial opportunities to ensure their prosperity."

Mireille was part of the high schoolers' lingering silence. She looked sideways at Kirika. "_Ok_. Well. That was a lot of research. For what purpose, though?"

"Chloe."

Mireille's heart thudded to a stop, then limply found its natural beat. "Chloe?"

The students behind them only asked with curious stares.

"Yes," continued Kirika, no falter in her voice. "After recalling every mannerism and observation, I wondered if she was probably of a lost Basque blood. Recall that small village in the Pyrenees, Mireille?"

"Vaguely," said Mireille questioningly.

"The maroon hair, the pale skin complexion, the beady eyes, thick eyebrows, the long earlobes, strong straight nose—Chloe had that as well." Kirika stared out the window. "Yes. So many of the Basque children resembled Chloe."

"Who's that?" asked Audriane.

Kirika paused. "She was a friend."

"Was . . .?"

"Yes." Kirika inhaled, then exhaled, and continued before they could press questions. "Anyway, Etxarren means 'stone house'. It stood for a clan. I'm assuming Chloe came from a clan that worshipped or participated in . . . _certain_ beliefs. I wouldn't be surprised if they handed over a child from their village to _them_. After all, some Basques are people of the olden days, much similar in nature to certain villagers we . . ." Kirika trailed off, faking to lost train of thought, but Mireille caught it. It alarmed her, that Kirika almost slipped something to the children.

"Unlike most societies known for developing clans," said Kirika, "the Etxarren was unique because it became the central concept in Basque identity of _belonging_. Their notion was, to preserve. Everything revolved around the Etxarren: beliefs, tombs, and names of the founders—that were carved over the doorway to the house—which its residential descendants continued to bear. If the Etxarren or its founders died long ago, descendants would still be preferred to as the name of the Etxarren."

"It's like they're trapping us in their beliefs," muttered Mireille, more to herself so that the children wouldn't hear.

"Ok?" scoffed Riki.

For the first time, Mireille was about to agree with the brat. She had never been aware of Kirika's sudden interest in such a subject. In fact, Kirika was _ranting_. Mireille had never seen her do that . . .

It made sense, though. Chloe always had a special place in Kirika's heart, and Mireille had to accept that—

Except Kirika didn't sound like she knew for sure if Chloe was Basque. Mireille feared her friend would be disappointed if all that research was proven wrong—but for now, she decided to let Kirika think what she wanted. Part of Mireille realized this was probably why Kirika agreed with _them_ to bring the children to Europe . . . so she could investigate Chloe's history along the way.

Her partner pressed on. "The Basques believed by naming something, it gave and proved its existence. _Izena duen guzia omen da—_'That which has a name exists'."

Something clicked in Mireille. _I see. She wants to keep Chloe's memory alive. She thinks the only way is by learning as much about Chloe as possible, like where she was from . . . her life before Noir—_

Riki nearly choked with laughter. "Ok. So, how does this apply to us?"

"It's your new home," said Mireille, offended for some reason.

"Why are we going to live in some mountains and stone house with some dying civilization?"

"To hide you and train you, of course."

"_What_ training?" blurted Riki.

"We train you until the time comes when you can survive on your own—"

"We can't survive against men like those at the school!" burst Riki, slamming her fist against the side of her door. "Why did they want us? What's going on—GOD, I'm sick of these riddles! Speak better Japanese, dammit!"

The tentative silence felt thick and suffocating. It only said so much more to the children, though.

Honestly, the last thing Noir expected in their line of business was _kids_.

Riki glared at Mireille in the rear-view mirror. "You're lying," she said. Audriane fired her an alarming glance. But she recognized an unmistakable spark in those eyes. When she looked back at Mireille and Kirika, she knew that despite all misunderstandings, she had no one to trust but Riki. After all, they suffered something together. They would get out of this _together_ . . . right?

Mireille ignored Audriane's following questions, caught up in her own web of confusion. Did the Soldats really choose Riki and Audriane? Their "trials", their stupid _games_, have always been erratic. For all she knew, the Soldats were waiting to see which two students survived the massacre. But then again, they handed Noir the two student IDs and passports to transport them to Europe. What was it about these two that interested them—_him_—so much?

What was the Soldat process like—to say, "I want a new Noir", and send servants out to study _children_ from afar for any potential?

Did Riki and Audriane ever suspect they were being watched? Mireille shook her head to herself. _Of course not._ Children don't know about stuff like this. They're children, they're innocent. But if Mireille were to ask them to think back on it, would it scare them—that being chosen meant they've been watched a majority of their lives? How long has this been this anyway?

"_Why?" _asked Mireille in a careful tone."Why did they choose you two?"

No one knew the answer, and no one answered. In fact, the rattling of the van lulled the two teenagers to sleep. It was about time the night sleep caught up. Audriane's cheek was squashed against her hand, elbow awkwardly propped onto the windowsill; her head kept bobbing off her palm, while Riki slumped against her seat, her hands in her lap.

"Mireille?" whispered Kirika.

Mireille exhaled, whispering, "Is it their personality, their ability, or something else? What makes these kids similar—?"

"And what makes them different from past Saplings?" added Kirika.

"_Nothing_." Mireille laughed dryly. "They're just like we were: children, raised by the Soldats in different parts of the world, in different ways."

"Maybe . . . it's because we're curious. We want to watch them grow, as if to relive our childhoods, but through different lenses. Maybe . . . this is our chance to save _their_ childhoods."

"Don't get attached, Kirika."

Kirika frowned. "Riki's right. It's not fair."

"It's either them, or us. It's always been that way in our line of work. Against the Soldats, against the world." Mireille paused, sighing. "The Three Saplings . . . they were like the stupid Trinity to a bunch of self-righteous cults." She grumbled and shook her head. "If only I could say that were in the past . . ."

"Yet we still aren't free," said Kirika. "And the next generation won't be either."

….

The airport was like a giant air conditioner: the clatter of machines, the hissing and clamor of aircraft. Like impatient teapots, steaming.

The people were just as impatient, except they murmured. Some coughed, others laughed or muttered in arguments; most, muted, as if blocked by a wall in the distance. There was something fake and trapped about these sounds. Like a far-off, indistinctive dream. They merged into one giant sound one learns to tune out.

Riki sat on the far end of the row of seats. Audriane was to her left, next to Kirika, who sat between her and Mireille, who looked like she wanted to sit far from Riki as possible—who didn't mind, but at the same time, it gave her more reason to despise her "savior". The more that word popped in her head, the more she questioned it, and the more it became "captor".

Riki looked out the weeping windows. It was misty and bleak outside. To some, it was the most beautiful thing to hear: the soft crackling and pounding of rain, with mist spraying off the machinery, making everything emit a glow. To others like herself, it was a reminder that life would be sad from then on.

"It's not often I walk out in the rain," said Kirika conversationally. Audriane followed her gaze, stopping on Riki, before her hazel eyes wandered to the faded outside. They watched the workers outside dodge the falling silver in their neon raincoats.

"That's why," continued Kirika, "I disagree with hot, dry places: same, boring, bright. Rain renews, it refreshes. Have you ever noticed it made the trees and grass pop more?"

That last statement was cheery. It was the most chirp Kirika expressed since their first encounter. Audriane reluctantly looked at her as if to read her, but she feared to see what lurked there in stranger's eyes. How did this quiet, gentle woman become a killer?

Kirika wore a thin, but genuine smile. It was a moment of truth for Audriane that was gone in a flash as Kirika looked around in a daze.

"Some coffee would be nice," said Mireille absent-mindedly, reading a magazine she bought from one of the airport vendors.

"I'll go order some," proffered Kirika, standing up.

She returned minutes later, handing Mireille coffee and other miscellaneous things that the blonde slipped into her pink and white purse. When she sat down next to Mireille, she murmured:

"We've got another one."

Audriane overheard. "Huh?" she asked.

Mireille didn't change her tone or her expression as she flipped through her magazine. "Men following us. You'll get used to it."

"More of them?" gasped Audriane, looking around, turning her head this and that. She didn't see him at first, but she recognized the older man in a beige coat reading his paper looking up at them more than one normally would. He was two rows behind them. When he looked her right in the eye, Audriane looked down into her lap.

"What do we do?" she whispered, breaking out in a sweat.

Mireille didn't act like she heard her at all. In fact, she slammed her magazine hard into her lap. "Damn, it's like they don't trust us!" she hissed.

"It's not like we trust them either," said Kirika.

"At least it's mutual," grumbled Mireille.

Audriane watched Mireille glare at the spy. He didn't seem startled that they noticed him. But when Mireille refused to look away, and just sat there and _glared_ back, the man nervously ducked behind his newspaper.

Audriane watched with anticipation. She couldn't believe they weren't going to take him out or do _something_. Then again, would they, in this public setting? She didn't even know what they were up against. Noir refused to explain anything to them and she doubted they would ever answer their questions until they deemed it necessary. Whenever that would be.

She looked around and saw a security guard. She could have just walked near him pretending to look at some magazines, and casually tell him about being held captive . . .

"I wouldn't," said Kirika; Audriane's heart beat fast. "When I said 'we got another one', it meant there were more spies in this airport."

"She's right," said Mireille. "Make a move, and they'll probably blow us all up, or start a shoot-out. Other than the school massacre, it's not their style, but, I wouldn't risk it."

Audriane blanked out, frozen with stress, anticipation, decision-making. She looked over to Riki, who seemed unaffected, occupied by the rain.

"It's a beautiful sound," blurted Kirika. "The rain."

"I hate it," said Mireille apathetically, thinking of the Beladonna Lily woman in the rain.

Audriane tried to appreciate what little there was to appreciate and understand. It was the only thing to do there. To listen. _Tap, tap. Pat, slap._ The cement became dimpled with raindrops, as if the ground was alive. Squirming. Dancing. Reflecting a more vibrant world—a better world than the reality they lived in.

"It's like in a mirror," said Kirika, who suddenly stood next to Riki, in front of the window, watching the rain. "The closest to heaven we'll ever get, when the reflection's just right." She smiled at Riki. "Something some friends taught us."

Audriane felt the urge to ask who, but realized it didn't matter to her. None of this did. The gray weather only dampened her mood as they all sat in silence despite the noise of the airport. So many people, yet not one who cared.

"Pity. The music stopped," said Kirika, craning her neck.

For some reason, Riki understood her, and agreed. There was something depressing about the rain stopping. It was like pausing her sad playlist on her iPod; her anchored emotions needed something to feed off, so she could continue to feel the world changing around her. It was almost like a weird epiphany she couldn't quite grasp, even as she was feeling it all around her.

Everything was strange.

Everything was going to be different.


	5. Chapter 5: Basque Border

**Author's Note:** listen to this cool Basque music for ambience, just for fun. Sounds like it'd belong in the Noir soundtrack, don'tcha think?  watch?v=rr-KUjjkJHs

Chapter 5

Basque Border

They wasted no time. The moment they landed in Madrid, Spain, they knew from here on out that strangers would follow them wherever they went. Sometimes the spies were in their black suits; some blended in with the crowds like the guy from the airport. This naturally struck fear in the students' hearts—whatever convinced them to stick with Noir, their only means of protection. And whatever dissuaded fleeing.

The party rented a vehicle and retreated along the Pyrenees Mountains, occasionally stopping at small villages for a day or two to complete the children's recovery, and stopping at restaurants off the side of the road.

Deeper into the mountain range, they stopped by the narrow dirt road, and stepped out of the car to stretch, go to the bathroom, or munch. Audriane stumbled down the hillside to puke from all the winding turns; Kirika admired the valleys; Mireille kept her eye on Riki. At one point, when she saw Riki looking down the road, she declared "escape was futile". That it was miles and miles before Riki would ever find anyone nearby for help. That spies for the Soldats would shoot her. To end their glaring contest, Mireille persuaded the children to get back inside the car to eat and drink.

The snacks and the long drive was enough to send Riki and Audriane into slumber—long enough, all the time Noir needed.

"They out?" asked Mireille at the wheel.

"The drugs worked," said Kirika, stuffing water bottles and wrappings of snacks into an empty grocery bag. She looked back at the children. "Forgive us. It's so you don't know where we're going."

From there on, they continued driving the nowhere.

…..

"So . . . where's the Etxarren?" asked Audriane.

"Well, to find out, we gotta hike there," said Mireille, eying the kids as though they were morons.

_"Hiking?"_ said Riki, mouth slightly ajar. Her expression was all too entertaining to Mireille, who just shrugged and started walking. Riki glared after the blonde in her pretty lacy red tanktop, jean shorts, and rather fashionable knee-high soft leather boots laced with soft strings. She couldn't believe this was the type of person who saved her life and now was taking it away from her, telling her what to do.

"What about our car?" asked Riki. It was parked off the side of the road on a flat patch of dirt against a shelf of boulders.

Mireille looked like she didn't want to stop, but she turned. "Don't worry about it," she said.

"Someone could take it!"

"No one's here. Look around you." Mireille continued her hike. "I've already locked the doors. Now hurry up, this is gonna take at least a day."

"A _day_?" echoed Riki, almost horrified.

Mireille rolled her eyes, and resumed up a lopsided path strewn with oddly-shaped boulders. "Some Noir," she hissed.

"So we're leaving a rented car behind as we hike to a place we'll probably live in for god knows when? The renting company is gonna be pissed."

"Who _cares_?" said Mireille over her shoulders.

The children waited for Kirika to move, who was toying with her gun and cleaning it. If anything, the weapon's presence didn't make the freshmen feel safe. When she finally stuffed it into the left breast of her cargo vest, Kirika followed Mireille, who was already gaining distance between them.

"So . . . we live in a village in mountains?" asked Audriane, catching up with Kirika. "I thought we in a town?"

Kirika frowned, tentative. "It's not safe to be around people. The more people, the more chances of Soldats blending in with a crowd. If anyone approached the Etxarren, however, we'd know immediately."

"Did it have to be that far into the mountains, away from the rest of the world?" exclaimed Riki.

"We're not traveling by car anymore because hiking is safer and stealthier means to cover ground to the Etxarren."

"What, you afraid?" said Mireille, who had waited for them. She glared at the freshmen, impatient. "When you're done socializing with the men that been following us—join us."

She wheeled around sharply and continued, Kirika and Audriane following. Riki was the only one who remained still, watching them angrily. But she looked around them for any sign of the men that had been following them. She hadn't seen any signs of them for the entirety of their drive, but experience told her they were watching. How, she didn't know. But she did know these men were playing around, never attacking, only drawing near enough for the party to keep them on edge. Riki hated that.

They quickened their pace after Mireille. Riki looked behind them, watching the lone, skinny dirt road grow smaller below them.

Out in the open, the rich green seemed flat, as if there was no grass, where rocks were seldom. It was early noon. The air was hot, but clean. The clear sky made it easy to carve out every crisp detail, every rock, path, tree, or hill drop. Gold seemed to drape the mountainsides in blankets; only on closer hills did they realize it was bushes overwhelmed by yellow flowers. In the more naked spots, the landscape was dotted in gray stones of all shape and sizes, as if smoothed out by a meticulous potter.

"The Cantabrians," said Mireille, inhaling the air. "The always changing landscape."

_Bzzz!_ Riki slapped her arm. "Ewe."

"Not a nature girl, huh?" stated Mireille more than queried.

They were crossing a zigzagging riverbank. Mireille and Kirika had jumped over, but Riki and Audriane carefully tip-toeing across rocks overrun by swift water. Here, there was longer grass; softer, in pads, almost like moss.

"You weren't much of a nature girl either, Mireille," said Kirika.

Her partner paused on a flat rock in the river, and glared. "I came from _Corsica_. This is basically home." She added a passing glance at Riki. "And it'll be yours."

Riki said nothing.

This insulted Mireille. _"Enjoy it."_

…

He lightly brushed his finger through the bird's triangular crest. Behind the creature, through his wall-sized window, were the Cantabrians, their addicting green softening into orange under the sunset.

"How do our Saplings fare in waning light?" he asked in his soothing baritone. He leaned his head against the velvet of his chair.

"According to our men, they're on their way to the Etxarren," replied his assistant.

She leaned down to offer another bottle of _Apothic Rosso_ into his wine glass sitting on a small round tabletop with a high, thin neck. He shook his head in kind refusal. She nodded and placed the wine bottle on a far-off table. When she turned to leave, her lord called to her.

"If you have a moment, Shirihime."

"Yes, My Lord?"

His gloved hand waved her over, the rest of him obscured by the tall chair. "Take a breather. Enjoy the moment. Admire the jewel of Europe."

"Only momentarily, if you don't mind," hesitated Shirihime. She stood next to him, adding, "For I have matters to deal with. Which you assigned me."

"Such delicate things take time to nurture. Let them grow as time permits."

The Japanese woman watched the bird perched on his index finger, its brown stripes pouring down its chest and around its head like rays. Her lord stood up and sauntered over to the large window that could have made up the entirety of the wall. He pressed against the window, just a crack, and gently tossed the bird into encouraging flight. It did not hesitate to fly away.

Shirihime sighed in dismay. "Sir Asher, must we always waste thousands of dollars to replace each one you free? What's the point of buying them, if you're going to only set them free? We always find them dead at day's end. They never survive—."

"Exactly. You cannot expect something _sheltered_ in good care to survive on its own. Which is why the Soldats keep their hands tentatively around the frightened bird. Let us encourage the fledgling to bend broken wings and face the chaotic winds of the world. Through Noir, we spread the lessons that which pain brings, especially in this modern society. That is the ideal of this faction."

Shirihime chuckled. "You sound like an environmentalist."

Asher laughed heftily. "Maybe." His eyes dimmed, lost in thought. "While Noir may indeed be 'blacker than black', it was meant to endure for the people, while accompanying each other in the forgiveness of each other's love."

His assistant watched him speculatively. "What is Noir to you? Underdog? _Underworld_ dog? An angel? The Messiah?" Shirihime chuckled to that last part.

"So much more," said Asher. "So much more . . ."

Shirihime looked back out the window.

Not a good enough answer.

…

The Cantabrians had been flat earlier in their journey, then became steep mountain slopes. It was hours of pushing themselves up steep slopes speckled with rocks; tracing a flat line, shooting right through in between valleys to stay on flatter and easier terrain; and Riki's grumbling stomach and nonstop complaints, even though they had plenty of snacks and water.

The end of the day rewarded them with a large bowl of water, a crystal-clear lake surrounded by steep litters of rock and tree-covered slopes.

Mireille pulled out a map. While she examined it, she said aloud, "This enclosed lake is a great fortification against attacks—perfect isolation for practicing our shooting." She pointed at shards of boulders that jutted from a row of rolling mountains in the distance, like spikes on the back of a stegosaurus. "If we ever got surrounded, we could flee between those. They'd make good cover."

"So would all the trees," said Kirika, joining Mireille, placing her finger on a spot on the map. "Here is our Etxarren. Just on the edge of the trees and the lake. We could keep a look out for helicopters or enemies advancing down the mountains surrounding the lake . . ."

"And the enemy won't see us," said Mireille, smiling triumphantly. "Not bad."

So they started their awkward descent to the trapped lake. The grass became bushier, padded in some areas like moss. The unpredictable rocks made it difficult to get down, almost like trying to shuffle down a landslide, but when they made it, they circled the lake to get to Etxarren.

"Just in time," said Kirika, beaming at the sunset.

"What do you mean?" asked Audriane.

"I'm glad we get to see it in this beautiful light."

"_This_ is our home?" scoffed Riki.

"Give it props for surviving time," quipped Mireille.

"What are we, peasants?"

"Be grateful you're under a roof, princess."

They stood in front of rectangular stone house, not too far from the lakeshore. Its back was planted against a massive boulder three stories high—as if it was _part_ of the boulder; soft moss-like patches of grass clung to its cracks. The roof was cemented stone, flattened out smoothly with an arching slope on both edges. Grass also found its way there, in cracks or bullet-sized holes. A fat, wide, low chimney sunk into the very middle of it.

"Don't worry, here, it seems out in the open," said Mireille, "but from bird's-eye-view, Etxarren isn't easy to see, especially since it looks like the rocks around it."

They stood right outside Etxarren, in wide and open flat grass and scattered rocks. The trees that crept up the mountainside behind it seemed to cover Etxarren from bird's-eye-view.

Kirika and Audriane entered. Riki stayed put, refusing to take another step. She regarded the musty, old, boring stone walls and typical square windows with faint re-brown shutters, with disgust. Not because of the architecture, but because of its purpose.

From behind Riki, Mireille moved her head like it was a camera, and forced her to scan the panorama.

"Enjoy," she sang in Riki's ear.

The teenager ripped away from her. She watched Mireille disappear through the most boring, old, small door framed with irregularly shaped stones that were faded red.

Riki walked around the house to further inspect its decrepit condition. On the right side, the wall was flat, two rows of windows spread far apart. The windows at the top were very small, the ones below them average-sized but still small; it made the house seem bigger. Riki looked closer to see one of them was actually a set of doors with opened shudders. A wooden plank stuck out from the wall, with a chair and buckets and flowerpots stacked on top of it. Barely enough room for a person to sit there to enjoy the view.

Underneath it, was Audriane, who emerged from a hidden dip under the house—a gaping darkness held up by weak beams and planks. Hay splattered the dry mud floor.

"It's a barn!" said Audriane, waving to Riki, trotting up to her. The stench of mulch and manure hit Riki like a wall. She pinched her nose.

Audriane beamed excitedly. "There a horse inside, too!"

Mireille and Kirika appeared on the plank above Audriane, and overheard.

"Sir Asher didn't mention a horse," said Kirika, sitting on the edge.

"I guess shooting isn't the only thing we need to learn," said Mireille.

Riki and Audriane didn't skip a beat when they heard the unfamiliar name Kirika mentioned. "Sir Asher?"

"Come inside—let's get settled first," said Mireille. She disappeared back inside.


	6. Chapter 6: Paths

Chapter 6

Paths

The stone fireplace threw slanted shadows all over the living room; they stretched and took haunting shapes, something the children realized they needed to get used to.

The Etxarren was ancient with no electricity, so they'd have to get used to sleeping, eating dinners, roaming the perimeters, or peeing in the dark. No more lights or the comfort of friendly strangers on the busy Tokyo streets. The "new Noir" must soak itself willingly in the darkness, if at least by candlelight.

Mireille and Kirika lit the fireplace but kept it low. Indeed, the evenings were cold, but the climate was still balmy enough to endure. They didn't want to risk the enemy spotting them in the wilderness.

"Sir Asher is the man who hired us as your protection," said Mireille, leaning against the concaved stone shelf in the wall; it held a pot of flowers, the same yellow and white-pinkish ones from outside. "He covered our airfare, the car, our hiking gear. It pays us for your training, and for the surrounding woodland protection of his personal bodyguards. Nothing's better than no-man's-land to hide from the enemy."

"So the men following us weren't something to worry about?" asked Audriane, almost berated. "Sir Asher provided them as our bodyguards?"

Mireille grunted. "That's what he claims. I still don't trust them."

"Like the ones from the airport?"

"I suppose."

It bothered Audriane that the assassin wasn't too concerned with whether or not they should trust the suited men. It scared her thinking about how many of there were, where they were positioned in the area.

Riki raised her hand. "Hold it there, blondie—."

_"Mireille."_

"Whatever."

"Ahem," said Audriane, clearing her throat.

"Sorry, blonde looks good on you," said Riki, then shook her head. "Anyway. This 'Sir Asher'. Who is he? Who are 'they'? I've been hearing you saying 'they' a lot."

Despite the warmth of the fireplace, Kirika's heart chilled, her glare at Mireille as hot as the fire. Her partner remained lost in the mocking flames.

Kirika exhaled, with a worn-out expression speaking for them both. "_They_ . . . are the Soldats. An undying organization, with different factions. Sir Asher is an influential figure in the faction of the Soldats of New."

"The Soldats," murmured Audriane, leaning into the wooden table that took up the center of the small main room.

Kirika's voice was laced with caution, as fearing they'd be heard. "Factions only exist because of clashing ideals. You probably didn't realize this with all that gunfire and panic, but men were shooting at each other at the massacre. We had to fight through both of them, not really knowing who was on our side, or what they wanted with you. Anyway, they were from two different factions. Right now, the current disputes are to figure out what to do with Noir . . ."

"Us," said Audriane comprehensively. _"Children?"_

"So we're in the crossfire of some gang war?" added Riki bitterly.

"For a long time, many wanted to use Noir in different ways. They interpreted Noir as many things."

"In what ways? Where's the enticement?" asked Audriane.

Kirika looked at her. "Big words for the little Japanese you know. Very good."

Audriane's eyes flashed with pride, yet remained stern with the matter at hand. "I worked hard to get to Japan . . ."

She trailed off, her voice ghostly. It pricked Kirika with sympathy, who shook the guilt off. Laying the boundaries and their safety were top priority now.

"To answer your question, Audriane," said Kirika. "Noir is a complicated, incomprehensible shadow—more than just a highly trained assassin raised from a young age, sometimes even birth. Noir is chosen for many things . . ."

Kirika paused, as if for dramatic effect. The children looked to Mireille to see if she would add anything, but the woman looked out at the darkness pressing against the windows.

Riki and Audriane thought about everything just said. It all sounded like nonsense coming from a Grimm fairytale to scare them—but they noticed how the assassins regarded the mention of "Noir" with dazed expressions. There was a sense of feared respect for it. And yet, to them, to a bunch of kids, all they saw was a giant black fog. Hard to see, hard to understand. It was a jumble of meaningless noise.

To Audriane, it was like listening to a bunch of fanatic crusaders.

To Riki, it meant nothing.

"All this rant still makes no sense," said Riki. "It doesn't explain who _you_ are, or why a bunch of cult scumbags want to train children as assassins? Sounds like kidnapping children to train them for some stupid war, like the ones in foreign countries."

"It doesn't matter who _we_ are," said Mireille. "What matters is that you survive."

"Yes," agreed Kirika solemnly. "Fight through this. Survive. _Win_. Let us train you to become stronger against men, like the ones that killed your friends. Let us _help_ you. To take down anyone who tries to hurt you. Think of it like that."

"Stop saying things like that. It's creepy," said Riki.

She glanced at Mireille for reassurance against the disturbance she felt. Mireille's shadowed expression only reinforced the dreadful atmosphere. Riki followed her glance back to Kirika, who had brought her hands half-way up and contorted her fingers into the shape of gun: the index and middle finger together, her thumb out, placed loyally against her chest.

"Kirika," began Mireille, almost as if to stop her.

"Noir," said Kirika in a low, dark, steady tone, "it is the name of an ancient fate. Two maidens who govern death. The peace of the newly born . . . their black hands protect . . ."

The teenagers squinted—freaked out, confused, unsettled.

"Blacker than black, burdened by sin, reaching out with mercy," finished Mireille in a flat tone in contrast to Kirika's poetic, monotonous recital.

The older women seemed frozen in place, surrendering to darker times. They didn't care whether or not Riki and Audriane were curious or disturbed—until, after a few minutes, Mireille looked over to investigate the emotions on their faces. She spoke for herself and Kirika:

"Noir . . . its very lifestyle, its actions and purpose, and love, revolved around that damn quote. You will probably live around it, too."

The girls didn't know how to respond. What did one say to that? It was like out a movie. You could feel and see the event unfold, but you sat there, detached, with nothing to do but watch. Riki and Audriane felt a tangle of unease and curiosity.

"Etxarren," said Mireille reflectively, as she looked around them. "To preserve the Soldats' beliefs. Humph. _Bastards_."

Despite being gripped in disbelief, or denial, or confusion, Riki spoke out as casually as she could: "Why does it sound like something you dread to do—training us? Why do it, then?"

"In this world," said Mireille, stringently, "in THIS world—you do what you must."

Mireille and Kirika looked at each other. Even in the dim orange glow, the freshmen saw something painful. It was gone as Mireille stood up, ushering them to take to their beds upstairs.

…..

Mireille sat on a wide boulder that slanted into the lake. She kicked her bare feet in the water, which surged with a cool, refreshing sensation; ripples bobbed the surface. The faint sound of water brushing against the rocks added a comforting hum in the darkness.

She was holding a flower, trying to figure out its name. It seemed to yawn and reach to the dim moonlight.

Kirika joined her from behind, adjusting her eyes to the darkness. Together, they admired the fortress of mountains that curved around the lake. They stayed quiet like that for a time—a silence that spoke volumes of their comfort with each other. Still, it tingled with the heat of past wounds.

"Mireille . . ." repeated Kirika, as if struggling to confess.

"Yeah," whispered Mireille. "I'm sorry you have to recite that stupid thing."

"We're horrible. We agreed to Asher's contract. We're just as bad as all of them—," began Kirika, but Mireille nearly shouted, startling Kirika.

"We're nothing like the Soldats!" Without looking, Mireille slowly slid her hand over her friend's. "If this saves us from the title Noir, then so be it. Even if it means destroying those girls."

Kirika felt like someone punched her in the gut. She wanted to throw up. "They . . . aren't much younger than I was—."

"It's not them I care about, Kirika," snapped Mireille, voice instantly falling from its peak to a delicate whisper.

Before all of this, Kirika would have rejoiced to those words. Now, she only felt guilty. Like she was taking something form those girls.

"We stole them," murmured Kirika. "We may have 'saved' them—but we stole them from their lives. Just like the Soldats. Just like how they stole us from ours."

"They're alive because of us, that's all that matters," said Mireille. "And because of that, so are _you_. Once they are fully trained, this will be over for you and I. We'll be free."

"But _someone_ doesn't like the idea those two becoming the new Noir," reminded Kirika. "I wonder who sent those other men at the school. They were after Noir, too."

"Who can say. Everyone wants a piece of Noir power these days. It really shouldn't be that surprising."

Something loud, shrieking, and almost foreign bayed from the barn. It startled them, how inhuman it sounded.

"The horse," said Kirika, looking back to the Etxarren.

In the silver-blue air, Mireille smiled. "First that damn cat . . . now this."

"We should ride it."

Mireille paused, thinking about the girls sleeping on the second floor. She found herself grinning, despite the weight in her chest. "We will. Tomorrow."

"I look forward to that day."

Kirika leaned against Mireille, then went limp on her shoulder, with serenity on her face that Mireille thought she'd never live to see.

….

Mireille opened the small shutters, and greeted the cool morning air sweeping in. It seemed to wash out the musty smell of the decrepit bedroom. She glanced at the bed where Riki laid, stubbornly snugged under her layers of weathered woolen blankets.

Mireille put her hands on her hips, glaring. "Rise n' shine, beautiful."

"NO!"

"It's a cheesy expression—now wake up and eat breakfast."

"Make me!"

"Enjoy the benevolent morning greetings while they last."

There was no response, save for the papery shuffle of sheets as Riki tossed in bed. Then her hand lazily stuck out. Without warning, Mireille walked up to the side of the bed, and with Riki's hand, pulled her whole body out. The young girl crumbled to the floor, head-first, her legs arching over her back.

At the doorway, Audriane flinched, but grinned, entertained.

"I promised my partner we'd horse-ride, so hurry up," said Mireille, dragging Riki a bit more, before letting go and continuing to walk out the door. She disappeared, her footsteps thudding down the creaking staircase.

Riki shuddered at the attempt to sit up. When she heard Audriane stifle a giggle, she glared.

"Some training," growled Riki.

Audriane's face dropped immediately. "At least they're feeding us."

They weren't quite awake yet—in the sense that, waking up to a sunny, peaceful morning felt surreal to them. Even as they galloped down the steps, it still didn't feel like last night was a serious, dark discussion around the haunting fireplace. There was something oddly Christmas-like about this morning, the way their bacon and eggs greeted them. It was like the massacre never occurred, that they never trekked aggressive terrain just to live for who knows how long in desolation; the chirps and warm breeze outside was almost like paradise.

As they attacked their meal without pause, savoring every bite, every lick, every trickle of flavor down their chins, they looked around the same living room once tainted by last night's shadows. It was so small that it could have been a bedroom. Nearly empty, with an earthly smell, and nothing but the big table in the center, the flowerpot on its shelf carved into the wall, and two paintings of farm landscape.

Riki and Audriane finished their breakfast fast, eager to officially explore. When they headed outside to the lake to brush their teeth, something hard hit Riki. It threw her off course, backwards. Audriane nearly yelped, hopping as if on hot lava.

Riki burst, "DA HELL!"

Mireille walked up in those fashionable knee-high boots, a hand on her hip. "Be a doll and get some fresh water from the spring down that trail?" She pointed to an opening into the trees that snaked along the mountainside behind the Etxarren.

Riki gestured wildly. "What happened to that big puddle of water right there we call a LAKE?"

"The horse just shat in it."

The girls looked to the lakeshore and saw the silhouette of a horse, shaking its mane to scare off flies. Its rear faced the water, its tail flicking up and down. Kirika stood there, obliviously brushing her hand over its velvety neck.

"Oh god, ewe!" exclaimed Riki.

"Um, isn't that freshwater—?" began Audriane, but Riki had already grabbed the bucket by its thin, wiry handle.

As Riki walked by Mireille, she faked to throw it at her. The blonde flinched just a bit, but not enough to bruise her dignity.

"Other way," shouted Mireille.

Without a word, Riki switched directions. She marched past Mireille and Audriane and disappeared into the woods—leaving Audriane with Mireille.

She looked up at Mireille, everything from the days before gradually washing over her. It was slow, at first. She still had yet to wake up from what felt like the heaviest sleep she'd had since . . . whenever that was. It was long and sweet, floating. She had felt nothing but exhaustion and the fulfillment of erasing that exhaustion.

But the scarring memories dug their blades, making Audriane's mind race with terror, sending her heart squirming like prey in the mouth of a lion. It was a slap in her face as she remembered the blood, the cries, the bodies, all she knew, gone just like that. What she thought was humanity. Gone. The love of her family, the excitement for life in Tokyo—the excitement for _life_. Then, the song of bullets—unforgettable.

And the ones involved, standing right there with her.

Audriane didn't look at them as she forced herself after Riki.

….

"Riki, wait!"

Without even showing signs that she heard, Riki kept on walking, dragging the big tin bucket behind her. Audriane caught up, evening her pace with Riki's as they took in their first morning in the mountains.

Patches of weed and grass lined the long dirt path they took, nothing but green for a few miles. Morning dew defined every blade of grass crying from last night's drizzle. Hard to believe this world was the same as the one consisting of school massacres.

They found the spring Mireille described off the side of the trail. A stream hissed from a hole gaping in the side of a grassy mound; water collected in the shallow ditch below. Riki swung the giant bucket behind her, then slammed it downward.

Meanwhile, Audriane looked around out of plain curiosity. Beyond their source of water was a dirt road breaking up into two paths. One continued on out into the open, while the other seemed to wind up higher into the mountainous forest, a gate separating them.

Riki followed her gaze, ignoring the overflowing bucket.

This was the first time they have truly been alone together. They had only shared Chemistry and P.E., for what turned out to be their last semester. Being unconsciously dragged by Riki, then forced out of the country, and finally sleeping in their shared bedroom in the Etxarren—those didn't count. This was it, their first human connection. Audriane wanted to feel a connection, whatever it was these "Soldats" wanted, but couldn't.

"One path is you and I," murmured Riki.

Audriane blinked, trying to absorb her words.

"The other is the path of Noir . . ." Riki abandoned the bucket and ran toward the path winding up. Audriane expected her to run for it, but Riki turned around to look at her. "I don't walk paths of murderers. That's not who I am—who are they to tell me otherwise? They don't own me! They don't know me!"

Riki's eyes were fierce and rich like fresh syrup, but warm like fire. And the way they looked at Audriane . . . it was like a wall slamming into her. She didn't know why, but she really needed someone. She really needed Riki.

Audriane felt a downpour of emotions. Her face scrunched up as she sniffled, wiping away tears with the back of her hands. Everything finally felt real. The mountains, the vast sky, being alone except with Riki. This was her world, now.

_This_ was _the_ world.

But Riki said it didn't have to be.

So why, with her feet planted into the ground where she stood, couldn't she just _run_?

…..

**Author's Note:** for Basque mountain ambience, listen to  watch?v=_HJx29yGEOM

They sat on top of the edge of the bowl, overlooking their lake. Turning around, the other side was a drop. They could have _ski_ right here, right now. There were teeth of rock below them, gradually dipping steeper and steeper, with risky paths carved in between them.

The two looked up and there were the real giants, massive green gods—almost looked fake and flat against the sky, as if an artist painted the perfect scenery. Bulgy, like a spine, made up of smoky rocks with green skin stretched across them, occasionally with a dab of trees.

A flock of sheep dotted the valleys below to their right. The animals grazed next to a river, a thin line winking with sunlight.

"Must be a farm nearby," whispered Audriane, more to herself than to Riki.

"They're wild sheep," retorted Riki absent-mindedly.

Despite the mixed feelings they were experiencing, staying out here was the best decision they've made since leaving Japan. Mostly because it felt like it wasn't a man-made environment full of man-made horrors. It felt liberating and peaceful. All sadness was gone, just like that. Well, almost.

Tears lined Riki's cheek, silent and slow.

Her classmate didn't seem to notice. "It's so open and beautiful out here."

Both stood in silence so sublime, their hearts ached. It was hard not to associate such beauty with the word "freedom", from a darkness they never knew existed. The gunfire and screams all seemed like something they merely saw in a dark movie. Like they just walked out of the dark movie theater into the sunny day bustling with crowds around them . . .

They fell in love with the touch of itchy grass against their skin, the hot breeze, and a sight they knew they'd cherish forever. They let the loud hum of summer insects overpower the sound of gunshots in their minds. Both surrendered to the wind, wishing it to carry with it everything they endured.

"How could you do that?" blurted Riki, watching Audriane smile and stretch her arms, greeting the passing wind; when it was right, it seemed to roar and echo like traffic in the distance.

Audriane understood what she meant. "Well. We safe. Now."

Riki felt a sting of loathing for Audriane. "We won't be for so long."

"That's why I will love these mountains forever."

Riki said nothing. She didn't know what to say.

…..

About forty-five minutes passed since they abandoned the bucket at the spring. They expected Mireille and Kirika to come running after them in a storming fit, but no one ever followed them. So they passed the time wandering the valleys, taking in every rock, every patch of dirt or stream. It felt so easy, so natural to just get lost. The more they explored, the farther from Etxarren—nothing but another bunch of mountains, growing farther and farther away.

Both felt it, in the way they looked back over their shoulders every now and then.

They could just _run_.

So why did they keep looking back?

It was a strange anticipation. It was as if they'd already gotten used to people chasing them, even if it was just Mireille and Kirika. Who weren't even their friends. Not even acquaintances or partners. Not even friendly strangers. They didn't know how to regard their saviors, people who didn't seem from this world, yet felt so normal—so normal, it didn't feel right . . .

"I haven't seen any . . . Soldats spying us, like Mireille had claimed," said Riki. "Wonder if that was all lies too, to mess with our heads."

"Well, maybe they are," said Audriane. "Messing with our heads, I mean. By not revealing themselves."

After who knows how long of lying in the grass, walking through streams instead of alongside them, and hopping from rock to rock, they finally came across a monastery. Riki could care less about a "pile of rubble", but Audriane insisted they check it out. She led the way as they traced along its exterior, feeling every inch of the scratchy, lumpy stone, looking up to the orange-tiled rooftops, tempted by its enthralling mystery.

"You believe in God?" asked Riki from behind.

"Yes. I also respect all religions."

"That's nice of you."

They continued to sweep the perimeters. They passed a graveyard guarded by low stonewalls and a black ebony gate that led into it. It wasn't till they walked almost all around that they found the entrance. A speckled stone path led them to smooth steps, then a large wooden double-door. Small stained-glass windows stared at them like eyes judging to let them in. Riki stayed outside and waited for Audriane, trying to figure out where they would go from here.

Audriane finally came back out. "I wonder if anyone is around," she said.

"What, no one was in there?"

"No."

"Well, you were in there. Did it look like anyone been living in there or something?"

"I dunno."

"Great," said Riki. "I was hoping someone would be able to point us around."

Audriane paused, then added, "What about the Basques?"

"Who?"

"The people Kirika spoke of."

"The forgotten?" joked Riki.

"Uh, sure."

"Why are you asking about that, of all things right now?"

"I dunno why . . . but I figured when we'd get out of this mess, I would go visit them. Ya know, mingle with another culture."

"Japan wasn't enough for you? You were barely there."

"Well, look how that turned out—."

_Bang. Bang. Fwip. Fwip. _

It was faint, but it was familiar. They stared back down whence they came, looking at the begging mountains—that looked like any other mountains—that led back to the Etxarren. Far off in the distance, far form their concern.

They stared at the woods for a good while, without looking at each other. It was as if they were waiting for the other to make the decision for them—to go back, or run for it.

Audriane moved.

Riki grabbed her hand. "They could care less about us."

"They _saved_ us," reminded Audriane. She didn't know why, but all she could think about was the expression on Mireille and Kirika's faces. "They not be telling the whole truth, but . . . they are not bad people."

Those last words hung in the air like an annoying thread in Riki's face.

As Audriane side-trotted down the slope back toward the other way, Riki roared, "Why would you save people like them!"

Her partner stumbled and nearly tripped on her way down, but she managed to shout back, "Why _wouldn't_ you?"


	7. Chapter 7: Adapt

**Author's Note:** listen to the epic "Salva Nos" live concert version here for this next scene. It would make good for some Noir battle finale, but I couldn't resist to use it now:  watch?v=vT2WiD46lfw

Chapter 7

Adapt

The trail back to Etxarren seemed endless. Audriane had been running hard and wheezing so much that, that she slowed to a trot. For some reason, she thought Noir would have been dead by now, and almost gave up on it. But she still heard gunshots. After long lapses of trotting, she broke back into running, making a mental note to preserve her energy if things led to fighting.

Then came the hard part—the descent into the lake. Into the trees. Back down that dirt trail, pass the bucket they dropped. Heart racing, she couldn't believe she hadn't run into those men. The gunfire never ceased, ringing throughout the lake.

When she neared the stone house, she was thrown off guard when something big and black charged toward her. The horse. She nearly dove out of the way until a hand struck out from behind its flying dark mane.

"HOP ON!" shouted the rider.

Without a moment's hesitation, Audriane turned around and ran along the horse. Her heart leaped when she thought the horse was going to trample her, or her hand was going to miss, or she was going to trip. But Mireille was strong and kept hold, ordering, "Jump _up_!" At the same time, Kirika, behind Mireille, leaned out to offer assistance. It was awkward for Kirika to slump her over her lap, but they managed.

In Audriane's blind attempt to sit up, she heard shouts. It was horrifying trying to situate herself between Kirika and Mireille, the ride more frightening than the noisy chaos.

Bullets flew everywhere. Any second, she'd be dead—she _expected_ to be dead.

Kirika helped Audriane sit up, just as the horse nearly reared up on its hind legs. Mireille slapped the reins violently, crying out, "Hyah!" Her toes pinched or tapped at the horse's sides, making it pick up the gallop. It wasn't enough. Mireille obviously hadn't ridden before. There was a lot of jolting, forward and back, of Audriane slamming unexpectedly into the French in front of her. It was worse than a rollercoaster, not being strapped in safely. With this, and the amount of bullets flying around them, Audriane still couldn't believe they weren't dead yet. It was hard to sense their location in the midst of fire, where the Etxarren was, where the trail was . . .

BANG! Audriane nearly jumped off in fright. Another fire went off. It was Kirika behind her.

"Hold on to me tight—don't look back!" roared Mireille, just as Audriane tried to look over her shoulders to watch Kirika shoot.

"Kirika!" shouted Mireille, as if to signal.

The horse skidded to a deadly halt that nearly broke Audriane's jaw as she smashed forward into Mireille's elbow. Just as they'd stopped, Kirika jumped and grabbed the ledge of the first floor window, then struggled to reach the window above it, the one with the protruding plank—and from there, to the roof. Before Audriane could register what she'd done, there were the cries of men falling to Kirika's bullets, who ran along the roof.

A bullet missed Mireille. Both she and Audriane gawked at the window above them, which had opened. There was movement inside. The enemy.

"Goddammit, we just got here!" roared Mireille, steering them away from the window.

Three Knights ran out of the barn, firing at them. Roaring, Mireille forced their horse to charge right at them. But before she even got to them, Kirika leaped off the boulder behind the Etxarren and landed on the horse, between both girls. She struck out both arms, two guns in hand. Two of their enemies from the barn dove to the side to dodge—but Kirika's outstretched arms uppercut both of them in the jaw. Their bodies nearly flipped over, flying past the horse.

The last Knight retreated back into the barn, but as the horse galloped by, Kirika shot him.

"Dupont!" yelled Mireille. "Lesson number one: _rolling_! Then find cover, and take them down while we distract them—GOT THAT—?"

_"No—!"_

"Good, jump!"

Audriane didn't have to on her own: the horse conveniently bucked in the air when more Knights ran in front of them—throwing her right off.

They say that life-or-death experiences, things slow down. Well, they didn't. The ground came to meet her; her hands reached out on reflex; she straightened those arms and tucked her head out of fright. Audriane found herself rolling and rolling without wanting to, then, bouncing in all directions like an uncontrollable log. She immediately felt a stab in her back, a cringe in her neck, the raw skinning of her flesh, and the final punch to her stomach as her body thudded against a rock, and rolled to a brutal stop.

She would have stayed there to vomit, but the sound of bullets was like reacting to the school bell for lunch. She scrambled to her feet and ran.

But Audriane froze where she stood. What she saw wiped away any peace she felt with Riki when they saw the mountains. Made her doubt such emotions could even exist in the same world in which she now stood.

Men, everywhere.

Stepping out from behind boulders, standing on top of them, all around her.

It was the ones with daggers that frightened her the most, the way they prowled toward her menacingly, slowly, with the tangible hunger in their eyes. Eyes that wanted to watch her writhe in pain.

They truly were walking nightmares invading her paradise. What terrifying contrasts to the beautiful green around them.

And those horrible, horrible white sneers.

Audriane was too mesmerized, too scared, to move.

There was an inhuman roar. Then, something hard cracked against the head of one the masked men. It sent a funny-looking vibration from his head to his toes, until he melted to his knees, then collapsed forward.

The thud snapped Audriane from her daze. She turned.

Riki stood there, about to throw another rock in her hand.

"Fire!" roared one of the Knights.

_Fwip, fwip!_ Riki was suddenly a hopping idiot, yelping, high on her toes. Fear for her life washed through Audriane.

But it was enough of a distraction for the horse to run by as Mireille and Kirika gunned down all the men. Kirika used the horse's neck to swing around and kick down Knights, while Mireille fired down stragglers.

"Now take their guns!" ordered Mireille, wheeling the horse toward another group of men.

Even with the great distance between them, Audriane and Riki locked eyes. It was pint-sized reassurance to Audriane; she started toward Riki, who took the last of her palm-sized rock to smash a crawling Knight in the back of his head. He went limp again, flat on his stomach. Riki stole his gun, but also figured it was smart to shuffle around his belt for his knife. When she found it, she looked at it, turning it on all sides.

"Hurry up!" cried Audriane, panicking at the continuation of bullets and shouts. She turned around and saw men standing on top of the surrounding rocks. She dove at Riki, who dropped the knife, bringing them both down to the ground at the sound of gunfire. They covered their heads, screaming, not being able to react.

"Use your _guns_!" roared Mireille, shooting one way, Kirika in another.

Without thinking, Riki grabbed Audriane's hand and led her toward the woods in a blind run. Their hearts jolted at every gunshot, thinking it was meant for them—but each gunshot brought each scream from each man. So they kept running, their adrenaline taking over to the point that they didn't realize they were already in the woods.

They squatted under big leaves and bushes, facing each other, watching each other's sweat trickle and collect under their chins. They stared into each other's eyes for so long, listening to the battlecries and the agonizing deaths, wishing Mireille and Kirika could take care of it all for them, to take it away.

Riki lifted the gun she held. So heavy, almost like a rock. There was something frightening about the weight. Audriane watched her intensely, waiting for her to finally use it, despite the trauma from the massacre returning to them. She wanted to say something, frustrated, but feared they'd be heard, even though it was loud all around them. Listening to the bangs, they just couldn't imagine what an actual war would be like.

Rustles.

Around them.

The students stared at each other, wide-eyed. For about a minute, they absorbed every detail of each other's face, as if it would be their last time looking at each other.

_Crunch_.

Audriane mouthed the words, _Shoot_. She glared at Riki, with horror. Both screwed their eyes shut, faces scrunched up anxiously. They held their breaths, bodies shaking after desperately trying to not move even in their uncomfortable crouch. Squeezing their eyes, their fists, their teeth.

Suddenly, all they could hear in that silence, were the screams from the school.

_Not again, not again, not again!_

The snap of a twig.

Riki stood and aimed her gun where she heard the noise.

But someone else shot first.

It had felt as though Riki's heart had been blown out of her chest so fast that she didn't have time to react. She felt cold, staring at the death hole in her face. She was paralyzed. Waiting for her heartbeat. Where was it?

"You would've been dead." It was Mireille, right in front of Riki. Her gun at Riki, point-blank, eyes strict, as if waiting for a reaction.

Sweat beaded across Riki's brow. Cold sweat, but not as cold as Mireille's expression.

It was as if time froze. Audriane remained crouched, staring in disbelief, Riki and Mireille a foot apart with their guns aimed at each other. It was when Kirika walked along and put her hand on Mireille's gun, lowering it, that the world seemed to come back to life. They finally heard the ferns buzz with insects, the tinkling of the streams, and the birds.

Kirika glared at Mireille, who remained transfixed on Riki.

But it was Audriane who spoke her mind. _"Why _shoot?" she snapped. "We came back to _help_!"

Mireille held the gun parallel to her own face. "Is that why you're here cowering in the brush?"

"And stay in the open and _die_?"

"Mireille," said Kirika sternly—the only one who Audriane noticed could knock some sense into the blonde.

"Where were you this whole time?" blurted Mireille. "A simple drink with my breakfast would've been nice—."

"SOME DAMN PROTECTION!" Riki had finally found her voice as she felt the pounding in her ears lessen. "That Sir Asher promises us protection and we all nearly get killed—YOU promise us protection, and you decide to shoot at _me_?"

Mireille pressed the gun right into Riki's chest. _"Yes,"_ she snarled. "I think I _will_ shoot at you. I thought you'd get used to it by now after everything you've been through."

"Who gets used to _this_?" roared Riki, stamping the ground with one foot, fists flailing wildly as if holding back from punching Mireille. "What child gets used to THIS?"

Mireille pressed the gun harder against Riki, making the girl step back. Even though Riki knew she wouldn't shoot, the weight of that gun filled her chest with a cold rush. She began to shake violently, remembering the massacre.

Audriane shrieked, "Stop that!"

Kirika watched in confusion, but found her voice rising. "Mireille, that's enough—."

"Get. Used. To. It," growled Mireille through gritted teeth. "People. Want. To. Kill. You. So we'll train you on how to react to _that_. You'll know how to disarm the enemy, even if they have you at point blank. Next time, you _will_ use that gun."

The blonde then lowered her gun and turned, as if to reconsider, sighing.

No one looked at each other, each anchored to where she stood, to her own despair. A noose seemed to tighten itself around their hearts. Riki felt every fiber boil with rage as she glared after Mireille. Never had she felt so scared and angry altogether—that anger could make her _this_ mentally exhausted, and unstable, that she felt like she would black out any moment.

After what felt like a lifetime, Kirika declared, "We have to get rid of the bodies."

Audriane gawked at her. "How could you just say that?"

Mireille eyed Audriane, as if that would answer her, while Kirika's gaze dropped to the ground.

"I can't," said Kirika. "But you will have to."

The silence was unbearable, until they heard rustles in the vegetation. Kirika turned and aimed her gun at something standing there by a skinny tree.

A woman stood there.


	8. Chapter 8: Trials

Chapter 8

Trials

Kirika lowered her gun. "You're . . . that woman who was with Sir Asher that night."

Already, Mireille cocked her gun at the stranger. "What are you talking about—what woman—?" she stammered.

"Sharp eyes, Noir," congratulated the newcomer. Her beady eyes—so big in her sockets, they were nearly fully black—locked on the students. "Very sharp. However, it appears that those skills have not been passed on. The candidates need better training. Riki nearly died. A failure on your end, and in doing so, probable replacement of a new Noir—."

"Don't you fucking threaten us," interrupted Mireille, gun trained on her. "Who the hell do you think you are?"

"Aka Shirihime," The lean woman tilted her head, with a composed expression. It was like Kirika's quiet demeanor, but much more devious in nature that it pissed Mireille off.

"If you can't protect them," said Shirihime, "then you're no longer worthy. If they die, that proves they are no longer worthy . . . of inheriting the title of Noir. So train them."

"Kind of hard when you attack us—not them—the day after we get here!" growled Mireille.

Her finger was about to pull the trigger, but a different gunshot went off. She glared at Riki, only to find the gesture returned. And Riki's gun set on her. There were hot tears in her eyes, as she seemed to vibrate with anger.

"Fire at HER, not me!" snapped Mireille.

"We're even, now," spat Riki, stepping up closer to Mireille. "You liar. There is no 'saving the world'! We're not stupid. This damn woman just said that if we failed, Sir Asher would order your deaths. You dragged us into this hellhole to save your own asses?"

There was a click. Riki felt it came from Kirika. She expected her aim to be on Shirihime since the stranger was being ignored—but Kirika's gun was locked on Riki.

"If you hurt Mireille . . ." began Kirika, face serious for the first time—almost to the edge of menacing, making her unfamiliar.

Despite the death threat, Riki felt pretty confident. After all, _she_ was ordering Mireille around. She was finally in control over _something_ in her life, for once, again. She tightened her finger around the trigger.

"I'll shoot," she said as boldly as she could.

Kirika challenged her with a venomous glare. It was unsettling, yet sad. Maybe even pleading. Riki looked from Kirika to Mireille, Mireille to Kirika. She found herself questioning her actions, but remembered that even now, they couldn't trust Mireille or Kirika or this "Shirihime".

"I'll shoot!" shouted Riki. "It's not like you two cared about our survival—it's always been about _you_!"

Everyone kept their eyes on each other. Never before had silence seemed to have its own sound, like a drone of bees. Every crunch of their feet shifting on the soil, every rustle of animals in the woods surrounding them, was like an explosion compared to the haze of quiet. Each of them could feel the other's anger, seeping across their skin like poison ivy.

Above all, Mireille didn't know why Riki wasn't focused on the real enemy.

Kirika slowly lowered her gun, face reddening from emotion—then turned it on Audriane. This petrified the dirty-blonde, who shot Riki a look.

"_I'll_ shoot," said Kirika, cocking her gun, eyes clashing with Riki's.

"Riki, _baka_!" said Audriane; her voice cracked. "Mireille and Kirika saved us!"

"They were supposed to protect us, but they were never doing that!" roared Riki. She suddenly realized that there was much more to Noir than she thought. She needed to figure out who to trust, which Soldats to trust, how many Soldats there were, how many factions . . . It was a painful amount of questions in her head that she thought she'd burst.

"What good will it do?" snarled Mireille to Riki. "Killing me and Kirika? _Hm_?"

Riki switched her attention to the mysterious woman clad in a white button-down blouse, knee-length skirt, and droopy ankle-high boots. She just stood there, the only one without a gun pointed at her. It irked Riki, but she felt the urge to lay down some rules with Mireille and Kirika, had the _need_ to shoot Mireille—but when Kirika stepped closer to Audriane, pressing the gun against her temple, Riki's heart thundered in her chest. Cracked, like a mirror breaking, reflecting what Riki was about to do.

"I don't want to," croaked Kirika, eyes red from tears, "but I don't want to lose Mireille, either. If she dies today, so will you. But first, her." She looked at Audriane. "Please. I don't want to do this. And I doubt you do too—to Audriane. _You don't want that blood on your hands_—."

"What does it matter, whose blood?" blurted Shirihime, folding her arms. She shrugged. "Just now, moments ago during that battle, you learned one thing and one thing only, the one and simple rule: kill or be killed."

In an incomprehensive blur, the gun in Riki's hand was removed. It was as if she had _given_ it to Kirika, who slid right into her face, blinding her from the fact that she had disarmed her. Riki felt a total loss of balance, even though she was pushed two steps back. Even before she blinked and registered what happened, the gunshot already went off.

Shirihime cried out with an "Achk!" She stood there, knees buckled, clutching her forearm where Kirika shot her. A blackish red spot grew on her sleeve. Her breath shook as she tried to wince through the split of pain.

"You . . . shot me!" she gasped.

"Good job—you recognize pain," said Mireille, with a cheery grin. Next to her, Kirika now held two guns, her own gun and the one she snatched from Riki.

"If there's one thing you Soldats were good at teaching," said Mireille, "it was knowing when to shoot."

Mireille folded her arms like a royal ordering her lion to attack a rude guest. She exchanged a smirk with Kirika, who approached Shirihime with both guns aimed.

The woman threw up her hands in immediate defeat, startling Kirika in her tracks. Experience told Noir that such nonchalance was never a good sign; Noir leaned forward, ready to react. Behind them, the children watched cautiously with readied stances.

"I'd save your thirst for revenge against the real enemy," said Shirihime.

Mireille gave it a thought. "Hm. Ok." She fired again, making Shirihime flinch; the blast startled big ferns right behind her. This toying around ignited an impatient flare inside Riki, who wished Mireille just _shoot_ the woman.

"There's plenty to go a-round," said Mireille. "Get it? A. _Round_. A round of bullets?" Her dark humor only worsened the children's mood.

There was a tilt in the corner of Shirihime's mouth. "Glad to know you're thrilled, as am I to inform you that you've passed today's second trial."

There was a churning, a knife-like twist in Riki's gut. No training camp? None of Asher's bodyguards lending drills or safety tips? No tips on survival from Shirihime? No meeting Asher before their "trials" began?

Instead, _this_ mad _fox hunt? _

"THAT was a bloody trial? You—Sir _Asher_—sent those men?" exploded Riki.

Shirihime stood up taller, as if to rub in Mireille's face that her gunshot did nothing to falter her. She still held her arm, though. "Everything that happens around the Etxarren are nothing _but_ tests. You should have figured that out by now. Recall that the other Soldats don't know your location, otherwise, you would have been really dead. Hope that they don't."

For a dull moment, everything that has ever been said or done to her had been a familiar numbness to Riki. As if she had accepted that ever since the school massacre, the oddest and the darkest wouldn't take her by surprise anymore—hell, the "first trial" must have been surviving the massacre itself!

But fire howled inside her, eating away at Riki's insides that it almost hurt. "After we just barely got here, you WERE TESTING US?"

She became a blur of something else, something inhuman. In that splitting moment, Noir thought Riki was going to attack them—but instead she rammed herself into Shirihime. However, the Soldat had invited the assault. Her arms lashed out, almost tossing Riki aside as if whipping a towel against the air to clear it of dust. The poor freshman became an awkward jumble of arms and legs. She didn't disappear into the brush but rather wiped it out flat with her body, like a giant crushing a city.

In those seconds of confrontation, Audriane glared at Noir—at _Kirika_. She had seen her move as if to intervene, but waver. It was right there she decided to hate Kirika as much as she hated Mireille, maybe even more. And yet, Audriane's anguish turned to plea as she glanced from Shirihime towering over Riki to the two women who _did_ save them from the school massacre.

"HELP!" screeched Audriane, the sound chafing her throat raw and dry.

Never had she seen such idiot expressions in the way Mireille and Kirika just _stared_ at her. From threatening Shirihime themselves—to doing _nothing_ as Riki fought the woman?

Audriane looked back at the struggle.

Trying to find her bearings in the dirt, Riki had rearranged her body to a crouching position. But Shirihime was standing over her already. Before Riki could register the deadly closeness, her enemy grabbed her by the forearm, flaring an awful pinch in Riki's arm socket. The woman forced her to stand up, only for the teenager to dangle in the attempt to resist.

Riki froze when she felt that familiar metal against her head, and heard that terrible click she still needed to get used to. A gun.

"RIKI!"

There was a jolt, and the world slapped Riki in the face as she tasted dirt. She felt something brush her head, hard, as she tried to regain focus. She heard the whispers of shuffling clothes in the grass. And grunts. Rolling onto her back, then sitting up, Riki squinted up through the pain. Audriane was there for a second, then gone the next as she threw herself right into Shirihime's gun.

Everyone had expected a gunshot. Instead, they watched in disbelief as Audriane was forcing Shirihime's gun skyward with both her hands. Both of their hands trembled at the equal force. Transfixed, Riki sat there as Audriane prevented Shirihime from pointing that gun at anyone—

The gun went off, startling everyone, especially Audriane. She lost the deadlock as Shirihime freed a hand to elbow her in the face.

"Adrenaline won't save you forever!" declared Shirihime coolly, aiming the gun.

But Audriane lunged forward, blinding the Soldat with a hand-toss of dirt, but almost missed when she grabbed for the gun, feeling it slip from her fingers, making her heart skip a beat. But when she grabbed it just in time, she mustered all her strength to thwart its fire elsewhere just as Shirihime pulled the trigger.

There was the sound of chickens crying out in the distance.

"There goes our morning eggs," said Mireille, hand on her hip.

All eyes darted back to Shirihime and Audriane.

Realizing how close she was to the enemy, Audriane stood there, gripped with horror. Before anyone could react, Shirihime placed her gun into Audriane's chest, and pushed. And pushed. And pushed—at the same time, kicked her in the chest. The student tripped backwards, gasping, feeling her body buzz with adrenaline.

"Audriane Adrenaline," taunted Shirihime, towering over her, pressing the gun into her chest. "Heh. I like that. It sounds catchy. Audriane Adrenaline." She paused, reveling in the terror in Audriane's eyes. "Amazing. Good to know you still fight to live—."

BANG!

_"Really?"_ hissed Shirihime, stepping back, aiming her gun at Noir.

Both Mireille and Kirika had their guns aimed, but it was Kirika who fired.

"What? You didn't forget we were here, right?" pouted Mireille, pretending she had been insulted.

Before Shirihime could protest, Noir walked up boldly to her, both their guns in her face. The sight would have been comical, but to Riki and Audriane, it only flared up hatred inside them. Why didn't Noir do that _sooner_—?

"The only reason why we haven't killed you yet," began Kirika, "is because we want to know why you're here."

"To assess Noir, why else," said Shirihime casually.

_Which one?_ wondered Mireille. But she brushed it off, tightening her finger around the trigger. "Well, if I recall correctly, Asher assigned _us_ to train them. Not you. Don't be vacuuming up all my money." She clenched her teeth. "Now, before I decide to actually kill you, get out of my sight . . ."

Mireille paused, drawn deeper into Shirihime's black eyes. She didn't know why, but she felt like they'd met before. If not that, a sense of familiarity, if that made sense. Whatever the case, it wasn't the good kind. It was eerie.

"What do you know about the Third Sapling?" blurted Mireille. "Sir Asher has kindly not mentioned from our last discussion."

Shirihime smiled mysteriously.

"You aren't the Third Sapling . . . are you?"

The Soldat stepped back, hands raised in surrender, face smug. She lowered her gun. Then turned. And walked away.

"Where you going!" threatened Mireille, her gun trailing the woman's every movement. "Answer me!"

She didn't know why but she couldn't shoot. She wanted to so badly. That's what sucked about the Soldats. You could never kill them, because they had the answers. It has always been like that for as long as Noir could remember.

As for Shirihime, she was the only connection to Sir Asher. It all seemed to click suddenly: Sir Asher was her Altena. Ever since Noir was assigned to train the children, Asher has not responded to any questions or concerns. All he did was send food and weapons and men for target practice, to "test" them. Just like Altena had done.

Now that she thought about it, Mireille hasn't seen any of Asher's so-called "personal bodyguards". Who knew how large their boundaries were beyond Etxarren, how many men he had guarding them—or how many men were guarding them for the sole purpose of imprisoning them, _using_ them? Mireille's only guess was that those now- dead men _were_ their "personal bodies". She almost chuckled.

This feeling around Shirihime . . . the same feeling she felt around Chloe. She wanted to kill her, but back then, in the moment, Chloe had been the heart of the darkness Mireille longed to understand and unveil. She never shot her because the Third meant something to Kirika, even before they both knew what that meant . . .

Shirihime was someone else completely, a stranger they never met, and yet why did Mireille feel like things were repeating themselves?

Kirika took a few steps after Shirihime, as if to say something, but stopped. She stared after her in equal wonder, as the Soldat ambled through the forest as if she'd been taking a walk in the park the whole time. She still clutched her arm, but it didn't seem much of a bother to her.

Shirihime stopped and half-turned to look back at them. "Like I said," she said, "I'd save the hatred for the enemy."

Many thoughts shot through Mireille and Kirika's minds: the real enemy? If it wasn't Shirihime, then, that other faction who sent their men to the school?

Noir watched two men in suits join her out of nowhere, escorting her away.


	9. Chapter 9: Thorns of a Rose

Chapter 9

Thorns of a Rose

"_Again,"_ repeated Mireille.

Riki and Audriane splashed out of the lake. On Kirika's nod, they raced each other toward the edge of the square-shaped boulder, sprung, tucked, and loosened into nose-dives. Their attempts weren't as painful—last time, they'd smacked their backs against the water or landed head-first after hesitating mid-air. Not professional, but familiar child's play into a pool on a sunny day with friends.

The trainees surfaced, smearing water from their faces. Kirika looked to Mireille, who peered back behind her sunglasses.

"Well?" hollered Riki from the water.

Without a care, Mireille glanced back down at her book, so Kirika spoke for her. "Not bad," she said, voice straining to sound excited and appraising. "But we need to perfect a single front-flip, then handsprings."

She watched the students shivering in the icy water. It was amazing how literally crystal-clear the water was—how actually _blue_ it was—that she could see the girls' lower halves perfectly, and the rich detail of the rocks at the bottom.

Audriane stuttered through a mouthful of water: "This too hard! We're missing something! How about basics. Fighting and _shooting_."

Kirika looked back at Mireille with a lit expression. "She's sort of right. Unless they were like us, where we learned everything from a early age, they don't understand how their bodies work."

Now that it was brought up, it never occurred to Kirika how second-nature her agility was. Pure human instincts, taught to her, whenever that was; supposedly when she was young enough at an age for the Soldats to influence. On top of that, she never needed to _teach_ anyone how she moved. How do you even begin to explain that? It only seemed to confuse Kirika just _thinking_ about how to _describe_ the moves she was used to.

As for her partner Mireille, who wasn't the most agile assassin . . at least she could take care of herself for the most part. She was familiar with danger, and had her own interesting Mireille ways to ambush or defend against enemies. So, for Kirika to teach inexperienced children, was her own inexperience. Like teaching infants how to walk and roll all over again.

"Right," said Mireille, placing her thumb between the pages so she didn't lose her spot in her reading. She too struggled to figure out how to instruct what she knew instinctively, especially to kids.

"Huh. Guess you're not the only ones learning," said Mireille dryly. "Anyway, Kirika is the more fancy one, so I'll leave the frilly tricks to her. _I'll_ instruct the basic firearms. Now. Kirika. How 'bout you make some snacks for us? We'll move on to target practice and return to stunts tomorrow."

Without argument, Kirika grabbed a towel, and with it, smothered her mop of dark, slick hair, then strolled inside the battered up Etxarren. Audriane hurried after Kirika to change as well, squatting away mosquitoes, which became more visible like gold roaring snow glinting in the dimming day.

With Riki and Mireille left alone, there was nothing but to do but Mireille watching Riki furiously claw away clouds of mosquitos.

"Little pieces of shit," began Riki, when a gunshot went off. She yelped, as Mireille's bullet sliced a perfect gap in the cloud of bugs.

Riki stared back at the French, sickened by her own fascination of the woman's prowess, which only reminded her of the hell she was in. On Mireille's end, she was getting fed up feeling like someone wanted to kill her in her sleep, so she returned to her book with her nose in its pages.

"So," began Riki. "When were you going to explain what a 'Third Sapling' is? It's been two days since Shirihime left. That was the last thing she said."

Two days since they had to burn the bodies of the men they killed. Almost just as appalling as the bodies from the massacre.

Mireille said nothing.

Riki glared at her. _"Well?"_

Nothing.

Riki glared. "Don't you damn forget that we're _still_ here. If we had run off, you two would've been killed."

Mireille growled, "Don't forget that you two would have been killed if Kirika and I hadn't saved you from the massacre. And you'd be dead _now_, because I'm the one holding the gun, and I'm the one who can easily kill you."

"Ha! If you kill us, you die too! Doesn't do you any good, does it? Face it, you NEED us!"

Mireille did whatever it took to not kill the girl on the spot. "We _all_ die either way, one day or another."

The atmosphere couldn't be any more murderous. Riki intended to have the last word, though. "Tell me what a Third Sapling is, and maybe we'll keep 'fighting' for you. For all of us."

"Trust me," said Mireille, "when it comes to the Soldats, you have no choice—except on how you die: run away, or _fight_ through it? Sleep on it."

…..

Later in the day, Mireille led them off the trail they had almost escaped on days before. She introduced them to a clearing where there was a garden. Tomatoes and grapes grew along skinny stakes in rows of mulch.

But the garden wasn't the focus. It was the large box-like, cemented block that collected rain, murky and nearly dark as non-sugared coffee, on which Mireille set up pyramids of empty cans. She positioned the girls several yards from their targets and handed them guns.

After five minutes of failure, Mireille said, "Just. Stop." She grabbed Audriane's hand and guided her aim as Audriane pulled the trigger multiple times. The young girl's bullets kicked off a few cans, while Riki went over to stack them up repeatedly.

For now, all Mireille said was, "Shooting someone isn't hard. As long as you point a gun at them, the chances of you of at least immobilizing them are pretty promising."

A majority of their day remained concerned with pointing and shooting, mostly at close-range, then getting comfortable backing away farther and farther until Audriane was a reasonable ten meter away from target. The kick of the fire, however, often slipped the gun from Audriane's grasp, butting her in the shoulder or face.

"That's an error you can't afford, dropping your weapon just because of its kick," said Mireille, picking up Audriane's fallen gun and reloading it for her. "Get used to it. Relax your breathing when firing, but don't relax that grip. You only have one shot, one chance in life. Be swift and strong—it looks easy, how fast Kirika shoots, but it takes a lot of arm muscle and speed and accuracy. Now . . . keep it up. I'm going to train twerp separately."

"If you're going to insult me, at least switch back to French," said Riki.

Mireille gestured Riki over, ignoring her. "While Dupont practices her shooting, I'm going to test your upper body strength separately."

"Uh, I'd like to learn how to shoot to defend myself, too!" said Riki.

"After seeing what you've endured, I _know_ you can shoot a gun." Mireille's eyes hardened, almost like watching a sword meld into strong steel. "It's Audriane who doesn't have guts. She needs to get used to the idea. You, on the other hand, have the potential to be strong. I just want to see how strong you are now—."

"I've got abs—!"

Mireille reached out and shoved Riki, making her keel off one foot. "If you can get swayed that easily, you lose your ground and give opportunities to the enemy. Thus, you die."

"No shit," grumbled Riki sourly.

Mireille shoved Riki again. Harder. This time Riki was lurched sideways, but stumbled to catch herself, her back facing Mireille. "The hell!" she roared.

"But also learning to take a hit is important," said Mireille. "Sometimes it's the best thing that could ever happen to you—it gives you an escape. Or—." With Riki's back still facing her, Mireille grabbed Riki by the scruff of her shirt, ramming her into a tree. "—You could turn that momentum against you into a new move, a new opportunity. ROLL!"

"Goddammit, mind telling me what to do before you pancake me against a tree?" grunted Riki, when it struck her how little pain she felt from being crushed against a tree.

"I can only tell you things here and there," said Mireille, backing away. "But you've got to learn how to react to different, unpredictable situations. Your only teacher is yourself; don't rely on us to be around all the time." Mireille gestured to the tree. "When I threw you against the tree, you could have used that momentum to roll around the tree, thus _spreading_ the impact your body would have taken if you hadn't rolled. Understand?"

"You can't just throw me around like a rag!" roared Riki. "There are ways to train safely, ya know!"

The Corsican stared at Riki as if seeing her for the first time. For once, she felt something for the girl: empathy. Right then and there, Mireille allowed herself to feel it. Let it warm her heart, ache it. Motivate her. Then, she crushed it like a bug. Let her anger and indifference disease the last of her humanity—because what these girls needed wasn't love, but hatred. It was all that would save them from their own sensitivity, their own vulnerability, their own pain. It would keep them going, drive them to survive.

_Only hatred can save . . ._

_"HOLA?"_ barked Riki.

Mireille blinked, her expression stone again when she locked eyes with Riki, who looked like she was ready to pounce her. Before any further protests from anyone, Mireille stepped forward and scooped up Riki right upside-down.

"Stop that!" howled Riki, legs kicking against Mireille's shoulder and the side of her face. Mireille's arms wrapped around Riki's hips, hands gripped around her calves, cheek hugging against Riki's thighs, as she hoisted her higher.

"I want to see your handstand," grunted Mireille, swaying on her own feet until Riki complied and placed her hands flat on the ground. "I'm gonna let go, now. Ready? And—now!"

For a moment, Riki was upside-down, arms straight, legs awkwardly bent but nonetheless up in the air. However, after taking two steps on her hands, her body seemed to turn to rubber as she timbered over slowly but powerfully. It looked like she was going to land, at the least, flat on her back, which would still hurt but be better than nothing. But then she panicked, automatically bending her elbows too fast, and squeezing her eyes shut for the worst, not realizing she bent her head awkwardly. This sent her whole body crumbling down on her head, squishing her against the ground flat. Riki sprawled out into an awkward heap of limbs.

Whatever warmth Mireille would have felt had vanished those moments ago when she promised herself she'd do whatever it took to harden these girls.

"Well that sucked," said Mireille.

"Hell with you," grunted Riki, stiff on the ground. Her body shuddered as she attempted to move, as if restrained by ropes.

"Did you do any sports?"

Grunt. "Soccer."

"Lift weights?"

"We started to when I made varsity team."

"Then why the hell are your handstands that bad?" All of this, Mireille said with the light-feathered tone of a well-mannered duchess, sugarcoated with mock and sarcasm.

"Because I did _soccer_, not gymnastics!" roared Riki.

Audriane, who had stopped firing to watch, looked over her shoulders at Mireille. "Keep fire?"

Mireille nodded, switching to French for Audriane. "Yes. But we should also work on your English _and_ Japanese." Audriane fell silent, as if her scholar credibility had been butchered. Mireille switched back to Japanese for both of them. "Keep at it. I have a lot to fix with this runt."

Irritation tingled along Riki's skin like ticks. "I'm a teenager—," began Riki.

"A _child,"_ corrected Mireille. She pointed at the same tree. "Handstand, now."

Riki regarded the tree with hate as if it had malicious intent. "Shouldn't I watch Audriane? Ya know, in order to learn?"

"You can't just expect to watch and learn how to shoot until you do it yourself."

"Maybe I'm special."

"Oh I believe you—."

"Mireille!"

Walking out into the clearing, joining them with a bucket of spring water, was Kirika. With a loud _khlu-thunk_, she settled it onto the ground, then looked at them questioningly. "What were you just doing?"

"Being intimate," said Riki, feigning a sultry voice as she leaned on Mireille's shoulder, hand on her hip.

Mireille shrugged her off, throwing a dagger look.

"Whatever makes you _un_comfortable," chuckled Riki, winking at Mireille.

Composing herself, the Corsican looked back to Kirika as if her dignity had never been tarnished. "I wanted to see where her strength lies. If there was any at all."

"I don't think she's ready for a handstand," said Kirika.

"Yeah, seriously, where does a handstand in all the gunfire?" retorted Riki in agreement. "We need to learn to the _basics_ of the basics."

"Stop sounding like you know what you're talking about," said Mireille.

"Riki's right, though," said Kirika, exhaling. "We need to take a step back. Starting with forward rolls. Then backrolls. Then diverolls. Then handstands. And in time, handsprings. Flips. In between that, firing a gun."

"Audriane's already doing that," said Mireille, nodding toward Audriane, who had stopped firing to watch the three talk.

"She's done enough, I think," said Kirika. "I want them both to learn stunts at the same time, though. Don't exhaust them, Mireille. Time is of the essence, yes, but we cannot afford to injure them so early in the game. Tomorrow we do stunts, like you said."

"Yeah, like you said," said Riki, folding her arms. "Breaking your own rules already, huh?"

Mireille stiffened and closed her eyes, as if hoping to contain her murderous urge to throttle the teenager. It irritated her that Kirika was stepping up in this particular moment, and yet at the same time it impressed her. Over the course of a year or so since Le Grande Retour, her friend became more confident, her opinions stronger and more voiced. It almost made her powerful, in ways that reminded Mireille who she partnered with. After everything they've been through, Mireille knew to trust Kirika. Even though she still made most decisions, she began to respect Kirika in a whole new light.

And Audriane saw that and wondered for a spark of a second what it felt like to survive, and thrive, in a dark world with a partner you could fully trust. She looked at Riki, wondering with shameful disgust if this was what they would look like together.

_Eventually,_ she thought, almost solemnly, and yet, with hope.

…..

"How was greeting the buds?" asked Asher.

Shirihime held her arm as if to hide it, even though she had the servants wrap it up under her new blouse. Wincing, it took every fiber of her to gather her nobility.

"The buds bloom weakly," said Shirihime. "I fear they nurse in inadequate water. The roots of the First Sapling are unstable, for she is a _rose_ with a prickly attitude that could lead to her own demise . . . just like the Daughter of Corsica."

Asher chuckled. "I heard those thorns scratched you, even."

Shirihime felt her brow cramp with the urge to not scowl. "Yes," she admitted.

"They didn't kill you, though—."

"Because they know I'm the only answer to their questions."

Asher smiled fondly. "I admire your confidence, how much you've grown and improved. But it's not a question of why they spared you. There's a lot to understand here, to learn. That's why the seeds need to be scattered. We cannot further encourage the wrong kind of breed, which is why we train them under a close eye, in the Etxarren."

"So you insist to press on in their training . . . or find new candidates?"

"The latter is _not_ what I meant. We stick to our current theory. This is the only way to figure out our question, through them, through their bond, through these children. Altena made the mistake of raising Yumura and the Daughter of Corsica separately, unable to predict their responses—she _acted_ like she knew what she was doing, even to the grave end. But she was wrong. Yumura and Bouquet came from different soils, different backgrounds, lifestyles, even though their beginnings were more tied than they thought. With Dupont and Araki, we can control that. Sure, they weren't childhood friends, but, both being normal kids . . . but they'll be a better team than the previous—a better Noir."

"How does their high school career make them better?"

"That's the _fun_ of the question."

"Right, we're trying to see where that goes." Shirihime sighed. "And what about the factions? The ones that sent their men into the school?"

"Our sources will find out who their leaders are. And Shirihime, make sure our new Noir's training goes _fast_. We'll need to utilize them against whoever tried to interfere at the school. Make sure to write that up as a mission for Noir."

"Of course. Oh, and, My Lord . . . I also hear that _they_ have sent someone here."

"How far away are they from approaching Etxarren?"

"They haven't made any more steps to Etxarren. I think they're waiting."

Asher's face grew serious. "They're watching us. Taunting us. Indeed, we will make sure to 'ward the darkness from the nursing babes'."

…

"I think you need to spot her right here," said Mireille to Kirika, putting her hands on Riki's hips. "One thumb pointing down as you grip her hip. The other thumb pointing up . . .?"

"You sound confident," grunted Riki. "I trust my life in your hands."

Off to the side, Audriane snickered. She closed her mouth when Mireille looked over acting like she didn't want to reveal her frustration, but the freshman could sense her annoyance.

"I feel like that's something you'd do for younger children," said Kirika, eying Riki's hands and feet that were planted straight on the ground. "These two are too heavy for that kind of grip. At this age, they already know how to roll. They'll offer enough momentum, so our grip should look like this instead—we just guide them—."

"But they _don't_ know about their momentum," retorted Mireille. "Hence, why we're doing this in the first place."

Despite being stuck in her position, Riki snorted.

"Roll," ordered Kirika.

As they have practiced, the freshman did as commanded. The two assassins watched closely, agreeing that Riki still needed to tuck more into her armpit.

"Roll more on your shoulder. You're not straight enough—not till we see a nice trail of dirt going diagonally from your shoulder, down across your back, to your opposite hip," said Kirika.

Mireille eyed her partner playfully. "Something you figured out?"

"Yeah, I just noticed. Now, how about we try standing to the side behind her when she rolls?"

Mireille stepped back to allow Kirika to spot Riki's forward roll again. When executed, Kirika sort of had to scramble along to keep up with Riki's roll.

With the cluck of her tongue, Mireille pointed, and said, "Try spotting _by_ the side. If we stand sort of in front of her, we block her way. Behind her, we're chasing after her instead of guiding her. By her side, maybe."

"And you say we're the ones that need to learn coordination and cognition," said Riki, standing up to wipe her clothes of dirt and grass.

"Guess so," said Kirika with a weak smile.

"You try spotting. Not as logical as it seems," challenged Mireille. "In fact, spot me."

"You're fat, you might crush me," said Riki.

Turning to Riki, the older woman scowled and folded her arms, luring Riki into an uncomfortable stare. The humid air seemed worse, growing thicker and pricklier. Everyone watched the two, Mireille with the lecturing expression of a mother, Riki with the escalating pout of a three-year-old.

When they thought more banter would pursue, the blonde only sighed and pointed at the ground. "Just spot," she said softly. Her voice was caked with enough authority for Riki to obey without finding an excuse to challenge her. Riki stood by Kirika as the assassin did a roll.

"The point of this is, if you know how to _spot_ a simple forward roll, you learn how to _do_ it from a different angle," said Kirika, standing up. "It also helps me figure out how to explain it better. And it's about safety, and trust."

They continued with Riki spotting Audriane, then their mentors. It seemed redundant and silly, but everyone gradually understood what they were looking for the more they watched each other, the more they _felt_ it through each other's momentum as they spotted each other. Less and less did Riki attempt insult to Mireille, too focused on perfecting the forward roll. She was determined to be able to move on to backward rolls by the next day, according to Kirika. She was determined to learn, to survive—to live.

10


	10. Chapter 10: Ready Enough

Chapter 10

Ready Enough

"Seriously, we need to think up names for these . . . skills," said Mireille dryly.

She stepped back to judge the teenagers' handstands. The freshmen have been at it—including backward rolls—since the previous day when training started, challenging each other to who could be the first to handstand without using a wall or tree for support. They started from handstands for a few minutes, to five, then to ten at the most. At this point it was the most they could do. With everything that's happened—barely arriving in the Cantabrians, the change of time zones, and "two trials"—too much would already be too overwhelming.

"Let's limit handstands to two minutes a day, no more," said Kirika. "Your body has yet to get used to this intense training . . ."

The younger girls' faces strained red at the effort to maintain control and not keel over.

"Straight arms," demanded Mireille quickly before they could topple over. "Land on your feet—."

They kept their arms straight, but that didn't change the fact that they had yet to improve on their landing; they still nearly slammed on their backs. That took a lot of muscle control and strength. Riki and Audriane crashed onto their backs, laying there, wincing.

Mireille stared at them, holding her chin in thought. Then, she said, "Kirika, handstand." When her partner did as asked, Mireille pushed her over. On instinct, Kirika tucked her chin and rolled. "Just like that. It's important to recover from a handstand—with a simple roll. Look at your stomachs, bend those elbows, and roll with legs tucked to your chest."

"A _moment_, Barbie," huffed Riki, wincing, whistling through her teeth.

"Still. We're missing something, some transition from handstand to . . . pain angels," said Mireille dryly.

"So sore," groaned Audriane.

"Because you aren't used to this constant activity," said Mireille. "Stretch more."

"I _strive_ for the Olympics," said Riki with a sarcastic salute.

"Get a drink of water before the midday heat gets to you."

At the sound of break, the girls began walking away almost immediately. "Finally, water," said Audriane.

"Sorry, but if you want water, gotta grab that bucket, and back to the spring," said Mireille after them.

Riki and Audriane drooped in despair, wheeled around, and glared at Noir, but turned around without further protest.

The blonde closed her eyes. "We're getting nowhere. Not fast enough."

Kirika observed after the children, then turned to Mireille. "There are three things they need to learn to survive: how to shoot, how to get back up from a blow, and how to run. Their gasping—their endurance—concerns me."

"Experience. That's all it really narrows down to," said Mireille, as if with realization. "In this world, you're never ready. Only ready enough. I hate to say this, I really, really _hate_ that damn woman—but I guess we gotta talk to Shirihime about that."

"I really, really HATE that being thirsty means walking a mile to get to our water!" grunted Riki, swinging the bucket between herself and Audriane, who gripped the other side of the thin handle. "No offense to the homeless, but at least hobos sleep safely on the streets where no one cares about them—but us, we had to be blessed by _GOD_ Himself to hide in the forest like Mowgli!"

Getting caught in her rant caused Riki to trip and stagger, burdening Audriane with the bucketful of water. After useless bickering, they continued to limp back toward the Etxarren.

"We _have_ water. We have the lake. They're just messing with us," said Audriane distractedly, trying to refrain from throttling her partner. She scanned the stretch of trees above. It was amazing how thick, and then how suddenly vast and open the mountains could be.

It didn't take long, however, for Riki's complaints to get annoying. Audriane had wanted to agree with her, but couldn't help but glare from the corner of her eye, insulted that her classmate didn't realize where she stood in their training, how lucky she was progressing. Audriane, on the other hand, in Mireille's words, had to "get used to things". Initially, it was ironic. If anything—watching Riki complain, watching her back-talk, watching her nearly shoot Mireille—it was _Riki_ who needed to get used to things. Audriane was at least _trying_ to improve, while Riki was too focused on sass, and it wasn't bringing them anywhere.

Their new life was hell . . . and yet, at least Riki had something to keep her going: a strength that Mireille recognized, a compliment that Riki should have graciously noticed by now. And what did Audriane have? She was bilingual and studious. But would that save her life?

Riki's current temper tantrum pulled Audriane back to their new world. With a sudden burst of envy, Audriane pulled the bucket from Riki's hands and heaved it onto her head with great strain to balance it. She marched forward, ignoring Riki's cries from behind.

"Hey, you're gonna spill that!"

"Pull your weight," snapped Audriane.

Riki was shot back from the sudden words, frowning. "Hey, you ok?"

After all that Audriane wanted to force out brutal words, but they surprisingly came out soft. "Of course not."

Riki said nothing. All that training has barely given them anything to bond over, other than competitive handstands and spotting rolls. She still didn't know how to communicate with her so-called partner.

Raising her hands defensively, Riki fell back a few steps to let Audriane march ahead. This only made something snap inside Audriane, but she still said nothing. It stayed like this all the way till they spotted Mireille and Kirika by the pond. The sight of their mentors dipping their feet in the water like royalty only worsened their mood.

"Someone should slave _your_ asses," said Riki, as Audriane dropped the bucket to the ground.

Mireille looked up. "Bring it inside to the kitchen."

Riki moved to take the bucket this time, but Audriane beat her to it without a word. As she slipped inside the Etxarren, Noir looked at Riki standing there, arms crossed.

"You need to think about your weaknesses," blurted Mireille. "Boost your stamina and strategy, but reduce your attitude."

Riki pointed at Audriane inside, eyes wide. "WHAT? Coach _her_ on attitude, not me!"

The moment Audriane rejoined them, Mireille quickly added without explanation, "And _you_, on your gun accuracy and physical strength."

"Huh?" said Audriane.

"Let's go," said Mireille. "Enough physical stuff—evening's upon us. Now it's time to end the day with some leisure target practice. You're gonna keep rotating after every three rounds: one shoots, while the other does a handstand. Got that?"

Audriane rubbed her arms, strained from carrying that heavy bucket. She regretted not sharing the weight with Riki.

"Just so you know, carrying that bucket does you some good weight-lifting," said Kirika, as if to comfort the girls, as if to admit that Mireille was being a hard-ass.

"Told you," said Audriane to Riki.

"And the handstands," said Mireille. "Rotating you through target practice _and_ handstands is a great way to simultaneously train you on aiming, coordination, and body-building. Handstands—always a fast, simple way to work on all areas of your upper body strength. It's good for holding a gun, it'll increase your speed accuracy."

They received a chuckle from Riki, who put her hands on her hips. "At least you're starting to _sound_ like you know what you're doing. In the beginning, you weren't selling us on the whole professionalism."

"I'm hoping eventually you won't need to a wall for support on your handstands," said Kirika, smiling sheepishly but increasingly confident.

"We just started lightly tapping away from the wall," said Audriane. She was intent on moving on from doing handstands. After all, handstands wouldn't keep them alive.

Whatever kept them focused on _something_ else, though.

…..

Aside from handstands, every evening for a good hour or so Mireille taught them how to garden. When they had first arrived, that garden half a mile away off the dirt path showed strange signs of daily care. Even Noir didn't know what to say about it, their best guess that Sir Asher had someone prepare the Etxarren for their arrival. Since then, Mireille—from what she could recall growing up in Corsica and from an uncle who taught her everything—attempted to teach them a thing or two about making their own veggies, juice, and wine.

It was one of few chances for Riki and Audriane to exchange little conversation. Every day of training exhausted them to the point that bed time was earlier than their times in Tokyo, so they rarely spoke to each other when getting ready for bed. In their free time, they explored their surroundings far from the Etxarren, sometimes one girl more than the other, and often separately.

As the girls sat on their knees, poking under leaves, Audriane spoke out of nowhere.

"Actually," she said, "after a while, you become grateful for being out here."

Riki paused, looking at her. "Huh?"

"After all that hell, I am glad here, far, far away from mankind. Out here, I am stronger."

Her Japanese was getting better, Riki noted, but her English . . . maybe more. That was a smidge of a thought before Riki grumbled, "Yeah, for you, it's great."

"I _mean_, it's distracting," emphasized Audriane. "It gives me purpose."

"As long as you don't forget who put us in this situation, how many people got killed." Riki's mind dulled at the thought of all the bodies and bloodshed, of friends and strangers . . . so far away, yet always there in their dreams.

Expecting Riki's usual sting, Audriane said nothing. It was topics like these where she allowed Riki to vent. She had every right to.

"Soldats, Asher, Noir, trials," said Riki through gritted teeth, throwing down a pile of dirt. "Those two never explained what it all means, not once! The more I think about it, the more it sounds like some recruitment for the Mafia!"

Audriane couldn't help but chuckle. "Yes. Almost." She frowned thoughtfully. "Why do you never say their names?"

"What, those two?"

_"Exactly."_

"What does it matter? I didn't even realize I never did."

Audriane shrugged, not sure where she was going with it herself. All she could think about was what Kirika—the Basques—said about "that which has a name, exists". It fascinated her, for some reason. But she remained silent, and resumed to pat new mulch around their plants.

"Anyway," continued Riki, raking at some weeds she discovered, "don't you find it weird that they don't know what they're doing? Ya know, like, training us? And not knowing a simple thing like who prepared the Etxarren for us? They barely know anything about this Asher guy. If anything, it sounds like they're . . ."

"Just as confused," finished Audriane, locking eyes with Riki. "You feel it too, then? But you hate to admit it? That they are not bad people, they are victims too—?"

"Not too fast there," snapped Riki. "They may have saved us from the massacre, and are training us to protect ourselves—but they aren't victims. If they were, they wouldn't be doing this to us. Keeping us here. Preparing us for something worse. Those damn trials. Our lives are at stake here—so no, I do not consider them victims because they are contributing to these trials. They're enablers."

Riki threw her gardening tools to the ground, scowling Audriane. "And it sickens me that you're going with it, instead of finding a way out here. It's the only reason why you and I are not friends yet. Yes, we have to back each other up, but we aren't friends."

Such cold eyes. From a stranger. And yet it was like a punch to Audriane's heart. They have trained together and survived together, but that was it. Such raw, intense emotions from the lab partner who helped her escape the school . . .

"So why you not gone?" burst Audriane. "Why you still here with me?"

Riki said nothing, her eyes full of wilting emotions.

"You feel it too, then? A dark pull? Curiosity?"

"What the hell you talking about?"

"I need to know. I can't help but wonder what happened to them . . . what _would_ happen to them if we left them?"

"That Shirihime woman said they'd die."

Something burned inside Audriane. "Then you're just as bad as them!" To distract herself, her eyes drifted absent-mindedly toward the dirt trail barely visible through the thick trees crowing their small garden.

Riki's faced contorted in disgust, but she followed Audriane's gaze, just in time for them both to see a figure walk by. It almost spiked their adrenaline, not having detected the figure before, but even when they realized it was that Shirihime walking by, they couldn't help but burst to their feet.

And fate would have it that Shirihime saw them too.

"I _hate_ her," hissed Riki, clenching the handle of her cultivator.

They glared down the woman, who looked their way but barely acknowledged them and continued her walk down the dirt path. Speechless, the girls stared after her, shooting their attention back toward the Etxarren wondering if there were any signs of Mireille and Kirika running down waving their guns in the air. No one. They looked back at Shirihime in her stroll.

"I hate villainous nonchalance!" growled Riki, her skin crawling with the urge to throw her cultivator all the way into the back of Shirihime's head. Every sore muscle remembered what that woman put her through from their last encounter. In ways, she hated Shirihime more than Mireille.

Due to the thick trees separating them from the dirt trail, they watched Shirihime disappear, detecting speckles of movement at the slightest breeze through the leaves. It was a beautiful day, and yet they felt alarmed. Her passing presence seemed to _violate_ this sunny day . . .

"What do we do?" asked Audriane, eyes darting back toward the Etxarren. "Where are Mireille and Kirika? Should we alert them?"

Riki kept looking back where Shirihime disappeared, squinting for any sight of her in case she was lurking nearby. She turned her whole body around in circles for any signs, for any Knights.

"Those . . . assholes," whispered Riki, glaring back at the Etxarren.

….

"Didn't you hear her say she'd return to check up on your training?" retorted Mireille, pouring water from a pitcher.

"Don't pour that water so casually!" roared Riki, gesticulating wildly. "That woman is dangerous! I can't believe you're not worried!"

"She _is_ Asher's right-hand woman, from what she boastfully claimed," said Mireille. "She relays back to him your progress. Lucky for you, she wasn't here to challenge you. Apparently, she is also responsible for replenishing our ammunition."

The children glared.

"What? Where do you think your ammo comes from? How else do we train you?" said Mireille, cocking an eyebrow.

Riki froze. "Wait . . . so, they're nearby?"

"Hm?" Both Mireille and Kirika's heads perked up.

"Asher. Is he located nearby? I mean, that woman just ambled here and back! We should track her back to where they keep all the ammo, and give them some hellfire!"

Just like that, Riki's fists were curled and raised, as if she was ready for a victorious finale.

"Steady, kid," grumbled Mireille, exhaling. "Don't make it sound so easy. You're untrained children against a powerful force. Don't just assume you're in an action movie."

"Maybe if you told us everything we'd have a better understanding of what we're up against!"

"When the time comes. You're not ready. It's memory overload for you, and honestly, too much for you to handle. Stick to the basics, that's all that matters."

"So you agree with me?" asked Riki, questioning their mentors' expressions, wondering for a second if what Audriane said was true about them. "You agree that we could take down the very people leashing us all, the ones responsible for all those deaths?"

It was the first time Mireille heard Riki acknowledge her and Kirika in that light. She wondered where it came from, how much the children have figured it out. It wasn't that hard to figure out, and yet it was. Then again, it took the students this long to realize that Shirihime delivered their ammo, so who knows what they knew and didn't.

Mireille worried about—and waited for—Riki to figure out _the_ _next thing_.

"If they're close enough to deliver in person, then that must mean Asher is somewhere! C'mon, this is basic math even I understand!" said Riki, looking Mireille particularly in the eye.

The Corsican folded her arms. "If you intend to take him out yourself, that would be great. We'd all be rid of him and the likes of him—but only if you're willing to accept the risks." Mireille stared at them. "Do you understand?"

Audriane grimaced at Mireille, then Riki. _She_ was not ready. She wanted to live. She would not leave Etxarren until she was fully trained and fit for combat, for survival.

Mireille waited almost reluctantly if Riki would figure out the other thing. But Riki said nothing, furthering not just Mireille's curiosity but suspicions.

"Riki," said Audriane, "we not ready."

"Mireille said so herself, that shooting is easy, you just gotta point and pull the trigger," said Riki, turning to Audriane.

"No, we not ready!"

"We're ready enough, right? Dammit, why do you want to stay here so bad, what's keeping you here!"

Watching them argue, Noir immediately knew they weren't ready. They weren't even sure if the children were partner material—Noir material. Mireille and Kirika shared a silent moment reading each other's eyes, in which Mireille saw a tentative glow in the latter's eyes. It was gone when they heard Riki stomp upstairs and slam the door. For some reason, it threw everyone off guard. Of all the tantrums she had thrown, this was not a known one.

Audriane exhaled. "I stay because I not an idiot." She looked at Mireille and Kirika, then ignored them as she headed up the stairs. "I talk to her."

They heard her click the door to their bedroom behind her.

"Can't tell who's the stronger one in the pair," said Mireille, shrugging.


	11. Chapter 11: Wild

Chapter 11

Wild

It was not even more than a few minutes when Audriane trampled down the stairs frantically.

"She's gone!" she cried.

The older women were cleaning dishes and setting the table. They froze, responding to her panic with wide eyes. Mireille leaned out the kitchen window; Kirika was already rushing outside, Audriane on her heels.

They surveyed the barn, the lake, and the woods—then, heard a desperate grunt and a scratchy sound against stone.

They looked up.

"Someone help me!" shouted Riki, hanging from the jutting board with the chairs and flower pots and buckets.

Mireille sighed, turning to Kirika. "I knew she didn't go that far."

"I'm gonna fall—!"

"Mireille," began Kirika, nervous.

"We taught her to roll," said Mireille.

"Not how to _land_!" burst Kirika, lunging forward. On instinct, Mireille did the same.

Audriane watched in awe as the duo threw themselves forward, catching Riki. It was a bone-cracking thud and heart-wrenching sound to hear those bodies crumble under the mercy of gravity. She rushed over, feeling as though her heart was caught in her throat.

"Everyone ok?" she shouted, about to collapse to her knees when suddenly a body squirmed and stumbled back onto her feet, pushing Audriane aside. "Riki!"

Her partner ran, sometimes rolling her ankle or nearly tripping forward—but she _ran_. Disappeared toward the dirt trail.

"RIKI!" shouted Audriane, aghast.

"Dammit!" roared Mireille, sounding like she was trying to squeeze out the pain. She sat up, clutching her arm. Next to her, Kirika whimpered as she gripped her wrist, then felt her head. "Kirika, are you ok?"

"Yeah . . ." said Kirika.

"That bitch!" cursed Mireille, looking where Riki took off.

"Are you ok?" asked Audriane.

"Been through worse, trust me."

"I find her. She is just throwing a fit."

"Let her," growled Mireille, helping Kirika up. "After all, revenge is a dish best served cold. Her dinner can rot."

The freshman watched the two stand up, Kirika on a limp, Mireille with a sagging shoulder as she clutched her arm. They didn't seem concerned about Riki, which calmed Audriane. They looked at each other one more time, such subtle tenderness that she couldn't get out of her head.

Audriane slipped a smile. "You're ok." She turned, running to follow the dirt path.

….

"You STUPID, you know?" declared Audriane, trotting to catch up with Riki. When she was about to repeat herself, Riki spun around sharply, almost causing them to crash into each other.

"I'M not the stupid one!" yelled Riki, who raised a gun. Audriane froze. "I've kept it under my pillow. Every night. Because I don't trust anyone. Just like our venerable teachers taught us, right?"

The gun remained hooked on Audriane, but she knew Riki wouldn't shoot. Instead of fear, she felt every muscle tighten in fury; in her chest, in her fists, in her face.

Finally, Audriane snarled, "Grow up. No adults to guide us but them. We cannot survive out by ourselves—!"

"We weren't meant for this! We. Are. _Children_!" bellowed Riki.

"NO ONE CARES!" cried Audriane, smacking the gun out of Riki's hand.

It was the last thing she'd wanted to do or ever expected to happen. The gun went off with a deafening blast; they both flinched, surrendering to the dead quiet of dusk. In their more peaceful moments, they would have appreciated this wild beauty, but here and now they felt the darkness seeping into their hearts, clouding their minds as they glared at each other.

"You're weird," whispered Riki. "There's something messed up with you. You don't understand the opportunity I have given us—me, storming off—they think we're blowing off steam, but _really_, I'M GETTING US OUTTA HERE!"

Audriane felt a chill pass through her. "To _where_?"

"There's a town nearby, I feel it. Where else would Shirihime come from?" Riki gestured toward the path ahead of them that was getting darker and darker. "That's her fault for coming and going, revealing she was coming from _somewhere_. Sure, there's that monastery, and maybe Asher's place somewhere miles away from us and society—but there must be a town nearby! We can find a ride out of here, get a map, call authority, find the closest airport—!"

"In the middle of the _wild_?"

"We're not in ancient times, Audriane! They wanted us to believe we had nowhere to go, but we do! We're in the Cantabrians—if not a local town nearby, then definitely some tourist attraction nearby! Or hikers! We could a hitch a ride with them!"

It sounded crazy to Audriane, but it sounded probable. However, for Riki to expect them to accomplish such an improvised journey with night's approach was ludicrous. The idea of leaving the only protection they had only tugged Audriane backwards, towards the Etxarren, that she began to turn her head to look behind them—

"Don't look back," said Riki. "Look, we may not be friends, but we're all we've got."

Her words were like a fist clenched around Audriane's heart. She looked at her partner, the only other person there in the world. Her feet stayed planted where she stood. It felt like two strings of her heart pulled forward, and backward.

There was a growl. They looked at each other, then Audriane put her hand over her stomach. "You should have thought this through," she said. "By now, it's dinner."

"Sorry," apologized Riki with a weak smile, grabbing her own stomach. Her face grew serious, though. "But I'm accepting the consequences, the risks." The way she glared at her made Audriane think she was glaring at Mireille. "This is our only chance. We can't go back. We gotta take risks if we're to survive."

"Mireille and Kirika would be killed if we leave them," stammered Audriane.

"They're _assassins_ hired by the Soldats to train us. They'll be fine. Apparently, always have been before we met them. Now c'mon."

If it weren't for the bluish blackness pressing down upon the land, Audriane would have been positive that her partner was shaking.

…..

The last of the dying light had dimmed behind the mountains, which became dark jagged monsters hunched against the sky. Now all they could rely on was sound, and that was scarier.

Their trek was ruthless. The path they thought they took to the monastery seemed unrecognizable; they didn't know which way to go. They should have known better, at how vast and unpredictable the landscape was. Looking down on the valleys and lakes during the day fooled them into thinking it was a nice hike. The dots of trees scattered throughout the emerald slopes, and the occasional hills lumpy with rocks—how harmless it all appeared. But what looked like scenic strolls up hilltops were excruciatingly long, upward slants. The whisper of shuffling feet and rustling clothes against bushes were the only thing that gave them an idea of how close they were to each other. If it weren't for the faint sound of streams or rivers, they would have stumbled into cold water, or stub their feet into animal holes hiding in the crowded grass, while feeling around with their hands or tapping the air in front of them reassured them they weren't floating through endless space. The anticipation to trip, or fall down an abrupt rocky slide, was more intimidating than lurking enemies. If humanity wouldn't finish them off, the wilderness would.

Riki grinned in defeat at the inky sky. _Better Nature do her work, instead of dying by the hands of psychopaths. _

They heard the distant whistles of the breeze through the valleys. It was balmy out, almost like an enjoyable walk by the ocean. The drone of night life added some comfort.

"I'm hungry," repeated Audriane, her voice like a boom in the quiet, startling her friend. She also smacked right into Riki, who rewarded her with cussing. "Riki, I feel weak. I can't go further."

"Keep going," whispered Riki. "Which is it, Audriane? A couple of morsels, or our lives?"

They froze in their tracks to allow Riki to sweep the land. Audriane didn't see the point, but she appreciated the break; her feet were anchored with throbbing, pin-needle exhaustion. She too strained her eyes to absorb a possible idea of what was around them.

Thanks to all the stars above, her eyes eventually adjusted. Barely. Instead of an endless abyss, she actually _sensed_ things around her. She recognized the bulging silhouettes of boulders, and grass reaching to the sky like the prickled fur on the back of an alarmed cat. But dark forms took shape, surrounding them, as if waiting to pounce for them.

Audriane craned her neck. "Have you seen that monastery?" she asked.

"Of _all_ things to worry about?" hissed Riki.

Audriane paused. "Why are you whispering?"

Instead of an answer, she bumped into her classmate in front of her. It was almost the scariest thing she experienced all night—until the sound of movement. Not of the girl in front of her. The papery shuffle of grass nearby . . .

"What was that?" whispered Audriane.

"I've been hearing it for the past ten minutes, but I wasn't sure if it was just my imagination, or animals."

"You not _tell_ me back then?"

"I didn't wanna freak you out over nothing! It could be animals!"

Audriane could hear the fear in Riki's voice. She whispered, "We need to _move."_

"And lead him to wherever we're heading? What if it's those men in suits, what if he has buddies with him, what if they ambush us? We should stick around and see who it is, take 'em out now—ambush _them_."

"They wouldn't bait us if there was already enough people—they would attacked back when they first saw the two of us."

All around them, the crickets silenced. Audriane remembered in her childhood tracking a cricket's location using its sound, only for the insect to go mute as she drew closer. It was just like that, only right now wasn't fun hide-and-go-seek with a cricket. Silence was a bad thing.

"We can't stay here like sitting ducks," said Audriane, "we need to move—."

"Shhh!"

Audriane froze and held her breath, automatically grabbing Riki's arm. Her heart was the only thing she heard, making her panic more, as if whatever was out there would hear her.

She then felt Riki's hot breath in her ears.

"Crouch. _Slowly_."

She spoke so softly that Audriane almost couldn't hear her. But she knew why. There was another crunch. She did as Riki said. Hunched over, they listened, hoping with all their restrain to scream, that it was an animal. They couldn't tell where it was coming from, the way it blended with all other wild sounds. The different directions from which each sound came began to torture them, that they'd rather hear the explosion of gunfire all around them.

They finally understood the meaning of eternity: the slowest minutes of their lives passed. The willpower to not move a muscle or itch from the constant tickling grass was painful. After the long insanity of walking and crouching blindly in the darkness this long, they suddenly craved action, to move, to run—

There it was again. The steady, intelligent pace of someone out there.

Fear pushed up and through Audriane's chest, like toxic gas rejected by her stomach. Her body had tensed into a pack of taut wires; she tried to force herself to relax, still careful to control her breathing. Not too loud. All they needed was for an unexpected, desperate gasp for oxygen to give them away.

At first the silence was so deep it had a buzz to it, a ringing in their ears. But then came the traces of ruffling. The scraping of fabric against grass. It was barely audible, but they recognized it after who knows long of hearing their own clothes scrape along dirt, against grass, or getting caught in bushes. Something flapped, but no bird chirped and squealed off into the night sky. The slight scratching again. They couldn't help but picture a long scythe dragging along the ground.

Different horrendous things flooded their minds. They thought of the creeps living out there in the wilderness, waiting for curious, stupid tourists to wander nearby. Even though logic fought against it, their hearts pumped daunting figments into their imaginations, of shapeless, unrealistic monsters out there. But after a long time of creating horrible shapes in the darkness of their minds, they realized that monsters were _better_ than prowling humans with murderous intent.

In an instant, Riki was paralyzed with dread and regret. _I should have never brought us out here . . ._

"Audriane," began Riki, trying to lean as close into Audriane's ear to preserve all chances of her voice reaching their predator. She felt the latter's lips quiver under her hand, which was clamming with sweat. "Audriane . . . we need to find that monastery."

Her partner nodded slowly, as if fearing that slight movement would expose their position in the tall grass. Thank _God_ for the tall grass. It was barely taller than them, as they crouched, but it was better cover than nothing.

"Ok," whispered Riki, "one of us distracts him, the other runs away as fast as she can."

Anger and confusion swelled in Audriane's breast. If she could see her partner, she would have glared at her, even punch her. The girl's useless lack of preparation for their escape to the wild—now this STUPID suggestion?

Riki felt Audriane shake her head, but Riki pressed her palm against the girl's mouth. "We have no choice. Someone's gotta be decoy—."

Audriane stripped Riki's hands off her mouth, whispering, "And if there are more of them?"

"That's what I brought the gun for—."

_Crunch_.

They fell silent, the weight of impatience and anxiety upon them, as thick as the night, as itchy as the grass around them.

Audriane's chest fluttered with the need to take flight as Riki said, "I'll run. Hopefully they'll chase me."

This time, Audriane gripped her hand firmly. "No_._ Don't be an idiot—your idiocy already brought us out here."

Riki was offended, but focused. "Got any ideas?"

"No—but two is better than one!"

Riki wiped her hands, afraid her sweat would make her gun too slippery to grip. Sweat trickled down the bridge of her nose, traced her jawline and collected under her chin, drenched her forehead in diamonds, and coated her neck and collarbone and arms in grime.

She had never felt so scared. There was something different about this experience compared to the school massacre. She didn't know why, and for no good reason, felt guilty for thinking that. Then she realized it was because they were _alone_. No one was there to help them, no other students around them to play target. How horrible of her to think that . . . and yet, she just wanted to _literally_ live to see the sun again.

"We don't run," decided Riki, carefully pronouncing every syllable so Audriane could understand but softly enough so they weren't heard. "We wait it out. You're right, any action isn't worth the risks."

So they waited.

….

They kept waiting. And waiting. Still.

Every five minutes—more like hours—Audriane would budge, but Riki tightened her grip on her wrist, or pressed her hand harder against Audriane's mouth. Right then and there she wished Audriane did the same to her, however, knew it was more important that Audriane didn't peep a sound.

There were hopeful moments where they didn't hear anything, and Riki almost mistook the crickets as a signal that it was over. However, experience told her to never expect a miracle. Getting her hopes up high was something she'd sworn to never do again. Not until she saw daylight.

Audriane dared to whisper. "What if it was just some wandering animal?"

"My gut just tells me it's not. I don't want to risk it. Even if it means waiting for dawn."

Just hearing herself say that made Riki's heart spasm with anxiety. Her eyes strained to see in the dark, to search for some familiar human silhouette to emerge from the grass. Instinct told her their predator was crouching too, though. She was sick of not being able to see anything, but deep down preferred not to.

So they stilled, they crouched, they listened. If there truly was someone out there, hiding was the only thing that would save their lives now. The darkness was against them, and yet it was their cloak. But waiting was the most traumatic mental effort they have ever experienced in all their training, their bodies buzzing with adrenaline.

They listened to the crickets. When the chirping escalated, the girls' best guess was that the person had wandered farther away. When the crickets fell silent, they assumed the person was back. Their heartbeats thumped like knocks under a wooden floor. Never had they felt more awake, their senses tingling.

Then, the sound of static. A female voice. On a walke-talkie. "Did you find them?"

Answered by a murmur, another woman.

"No."

It was so foreign and loud that the girls nearly jumped and squealed. But like pulling strings taut, they refrained from any movement or sound. They thought they saw a figure emerge, but the night had long tricked their eyesight with swirling, deformed illusions that they didn't know what to trust.

"Why didn't you use the flashlight?" asked the walkie-talkie.

"Seeing the light would only chase them away, and blind my peripheral vision," said the woman in the dark.

"True."

Riki tried to identify the voices. It was hard to tell, with the walkie-talkie discording their voices, with their hunter speaking low.

"They're probably still there," said the walkie-talkie.

"Probably," said their predator.

Every word exchanged pierced Riki and Audriane's chests with horror.

"They can probably hear you, as we speak."

Chuckle. "Probably."

And just like that, their hunter ended the call. They heard rustling somewhere about fifteen meters away, then silence. Their hearts raced, their bodies quaking again. They anticipated sound, but didn't hear any.

Finally, the sound of running. It was scary to hear at first because they thought it was coming toward them. But it faded sharply in volume, into the night. Even long after, the girls made no sound, did not budge. They trembled, hands over their mouths in shock, with no choice but to stare down into darkness, not being able to see their hands or knees.

It wasn't till a good ten minutes passed when a quiver rippled through their spines. Then, as if resurfacing from underwater, both girls gasped into sobs.


	12. Chapter 12: Trinity

Chapter 12

Trinity

Riki and Audriane found the monastery.

Common sense told them to sleep off their anxiety and regain their strength, but fear consumed them. Near the sanctuary, they hid in a confessional, laid there awake and wary. If they had it their way, they would have cuddled up together in one side of the boxlike structure for safety purposes. However, the two opposing bench rooms were only big enough for an average human to sit in, not lay in. Being teenagers of their height, they were fortunate to lie on the floor of each room, even if it meant being separated.

Surprisingly, Riki was the first to snore off in heavy slumber. Duty swelled in Audriane to listen for any danger, so she remained awake, though her eyes begged to differ. She felt a grim combination of relief and alarm, being safe and hidden in that box—but trapped. It made sleeping difficult, and maintaining sanity nearly impossible. Audriane began to wonder if she'd prefer the noise of the crickets outside. The sudden emptiness of the sanctuary blocking out all sounds was just as spooky.

She remained awake, her ears turning sounds into horrifying, alien images in her mind. Often, of the woman in the dark.

This cold fear leeched to her like a coat; it covered her in sweat and shivers, all through the night until the slight silver of dawn. Then her heart slowed, and her fears shrank, swallowed by her own darkness of her own slumber. As Audriane felt herself fall in that oblivion, her last thoughts were wishing Mireille and Kirika were there.

….

She awoke to hunger.

_It's like an animal trapped inside you,_ thought Audriane. After missing last night's dinner and having walked a whole night in the wilderness, hunger was like a sharply clawed animal trying to burrow its way out of its way out of her stomach.

Audriane heard movement. It echoed from the small sitting room on the other side of the screened wall. The next thing she noticed was how warm the sun shone through the crisscrossing diamonds of the confessional's wooden window. She peered out, the dawnlight softening the ambience of the nave.

Next to her, Riki yawned and stretched, a sound so casual and beautiful that relief washed through Audriane's entire being.

They were ok.

Audriane sat up, peeking through the screen. "Hey."

Riki's face popped in view. She wiped her eyes, grunting, "Hey. How you doing?"

Audriane pushed down on her stomach, as if trying to calm to calm the gnawing beast inside her. "Hungry," she said.

"I know, me too. I'm sorry, I know that's my fault. But it beats being back at Etxarren, though, right?"

Audriane couldn't argue with that, but the hunger festering inside her was beginning to. She saw Riki place her hand over her own stomach, wincing at the pain, eyes sullen.

But Riki was right. The fear they have long grown used to was nothing but a tickle in the back of their minds, barely a prick in their hardened hearts. They looked at each other briefly, before opening their doors and stepping out of the confessional.

As they stood there and stretched, Riki looked around. From the outside, the monastery had seemed rather big. But the nave that led to the altar was congested with wide benches that stretched almost to either side of the walls, making the aisles somewhat impassable. Triangular frames strung the walls, with heavy woodcarvings depicting biblical scenes; they were chipped and faded, hard to read. Above those pictures were slits of windows. The ancient stone walls didn't seem so ghostly anymore. Seeing the daylight pour in was all Riki needed to feel safe again.

Riki was just glancing at the block-like patterns on the wooden ceiling when her stomach stole her back to reality. She looked at Audriane, who leaned over holding her own.

"We need to eat, I can't take it anymore," groaned Audriane.

Riki nodded in agreement, a little hazy from the heavy sleep; she knew it was also from lack of food. Without a word, she followed Audriane, who assumingly had explored these interiors from last time. She led them through what looked like an inside courtyard, a beautiful cross-shaped network of cement paths and grass. As they walked it, Riki noted that the patches of green were clovers.

"What is this place?" she asked, slowing down at the center of the paths, where rainwater trickled into a drain. It glowed in a halo of light. Riki looked up at a circular opening in the ceiling; the sky stared back.

"I'm trying to remember my World Religions class," muttered Audriane, squatting down to finger through the healthy clovers. "It is . . the 'garth', or the 'cloister'—or no, the cloisters make up the garth . . .?"

"So . . . GARDEN? It's a garden," blurted Riki. "You could have just said that."

"Sorry. Garden," said Audriane absent-mindedly. With her fingers, she traced the soft three-lobed leaves of the clovers. "Hey. Are these called 'clovers' or 'shamrocks'?"

"I thought _you_ were the genius."

"Well?"

"I think they're the same thing, but I think the shamrock is specifically the symbol of Ireland . . ."

Riki impatiently watched her feel the clovers. Deep inside, she thought the beast inside her would burst and devour _Audriane_—her hunger was that painful. Last night's heavy sleep revived them, but with that accumulating pain in their stomachs reminding them to eat, she felt her morning grumpiness catching up. To add to that, she could barely stand. The last thing they needed was running into strangers, malnourished.

"C'mon, let's go find something to eat—," began Riki.

"What are the Three Saplings?" murmured Audriane.

"C'monnn, you said so yourself you were hungry!"

"Didn't you hear Mireille and Kirika talk about Three Saplings?"

"I don't give a little ladybug's piece of shit—!"

"You were curious yourself." Audriane paused, marveling, "Three Saplings. Always the number three—."

"OHMYGOD!" roared Riki, who folded her hands together in mocking prayer. "Lord, Our Father, please guide Dupont to a table of food so that we may rest in peace. In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen! Now _c'mon_, Dupont!"

Offended, Audriane cocked an eyebrow at her. "Don't mock the Trinity like _that_! 'God is said to be trinity in unity'—."

"Duponttttt," groaned Riki, bending over and squeezing her stomach. "Why do you have to stop and analyze everything? What do clovers and trinities matter right now? We're in a crisis!"

"I am serious about anything trinity-related. It is holy. It means something." When Riki's eyes bulged at her, ready to fall out, Audriane blurted, "You not even _slightly_ curious about that Chloe girl they mentioned?"

At this, Riki silenced. "Who?"

"Kirika's friend, Chloe. Remember, they mentioned her in the car to the airport?"

"Ok?"

"They thought we were sleeping when they started ranting in the car," said Audriane, lost in memory. "I wonder if Chloe . . . has anything to do with Noir. With the Three Saplings. They said something about her being . . . 'handed' over to them—the Soldats—?."

Riki threw her hands up in the air. "What the hell do you care? We left them all behind. Let's go find something to eat. Monks don't just starve in their monasteries, do they?"

Audriane sighed, then stood up. "I think the refectory is this way," she said, her voice trailing off as she led them out of the garth.

"The wha . . .?"

"The room for communal meals." Pause. "I think."

Audriane pressed on, forcing Riki to follow, hand on her gun tucked in the back of her pants. When Audriane heard that familiar click, she wheeled around, looking around frantically, then at Riki.

"Don't do that!" she exclaimed.

Riki glowered, gesturing around them. "Uh, remember last night?"

"I feel no safer with _that_ around—unless we in battle," said Audriane, turning around as if afraid to look at it. Regardless, Riki caught her partner looking around them warily.

They were already outside behind the monastery. Cemetery statues or stray blocks stood in the yellowish-green grass, sometimes raised on different levels of ground. Uneven arched doorways overlapped each other in seemingly nonsensical ways. The girls turned around to look at the stone building they just exited. It was a stout house-like extension of the monastery, with peaking tiled rooftops and a cylinder tower on top, with a slit of a window on its front and a cross perched on top with branchlike extensions.

"So now what?" asked Riki, looking at the grey morning around them. The sun they saw earlier sulked behind low clouds that draped the dark green mountains like a descending, blanket.

"So hungry," said Riki, sitting on a stone square in the grass. Then she perked up. "Did you hear that? I think I heard sheep. _Foood_!"

"You'd kill innocent sheep?" said Audriane, who had stopped in front of a statue that looked like the Queen piece from a Chess game.

When she saw Riki pull out the gun behind her back, Audriane's legs buckled for action. She ran to join Riki's side, but the latter pointed her back toward the doorway that led back to the garth.

"Stay hidden," hissed Riki, eyes darting everywhere, gun parallel to her face. "I hear someone, too."

Audriane pointed at the gun in her hand. "I snipe, give to _me_!"

"Oh, good point." Riki tossed Audriane her gun, which set Audriane off on a banter about how weapons shouldn't be thrown around like toys. However, Riki urged her to hide inside the monastery with the gun, while she stood her ground.

Riki turned, and saw a sheep. Then another. Two more ambled in from an opening in the weak iron fence that surrounded the monastery. Walking among them, was a monk.

"What? Since _when_?" muttered Riki, loosening her stance.

When the bald man saw Riki, he smiled and waved, leaving behind his sheep grazing near the gate. His brown cloak brushed over his feet as he approached her, his gold cross necklace winking in the sunlight.

He was a sight to rejoice, a familiarity to be consoled by. However, the moment he mouthed a greeting, Riki realized she could not understand him.

Riki stood there helplessly, the mental effort to translate what he was saying exhausting. It's been a while since she'd heard any other language and quite frankly, felt uneasy by the alien sound.

Before she had a chance to reply, Audriane stepped up next to her.

"He's French," she said, relief in her eyes. She smiled at the monk, who eyed her appearance with faint surprise. Riki snuck a glance to see where Audriane hid the gun but saw it nowhere on her partner.

As they spoke, Riki watched. She was instantly distracted by the monk's silvery, tangled beard that looked like grass hanging from his chin. His face was slightly stout; his eyes, far apart, but small and squinty. All she thought was, _goat_.

The corners of the man's eyes crinkled as he smiled politely to whatever Audriane was explaining to him. Riki tried to interpret the emotions on the older man's face—who didn't look as old as she thought, probably in his late forties.

It was only a few minutes when Audriane waved at him, then started walking away. Riki bowed to the monk and followed. Ahead of her she noticed Audriane quickening her pace along a barely-noticeable trail of dirt leading from the monastery. She caught up with her by a hill, a shoulder of bone-white rocks that seemed to glare against the cloudless sky.

"Hey! So, what'd he say?" asked Riki.

"I'll tell you later when we're out of sight."

"Why the whispering?"

"Because old men freak me out."

Riki paused. "What? You were just talking and smiling with one."

"I had to. You didn't know French."

"Ok. Well, don't walk away so quickly—he was a _monk_. It looks rude."

Audriane laughed. "You? Concerned about hurting others' feelings?"

Riki glared. "Hey, I was raised to respect my elders."

"Not the point!" blurted Audriane, waving off the argument with her hands. "Anyway, he says there is a town called Laguardia. It's small, but will have maps, phones, police. We call for help!"

"How far away?"

"Long way."

"How far? _Numbers_, Audriane!"

"Uh . . . fifty miles . . .?"

Riki froze. "We were _that_ close to people?" Audriane stopped, too, with a look of dread and realization. "Those damn bitches made us believe we were far from civilization!"

They had their moment of disbelief as they stood there. Even Audriane felt all senses of faith in Mireille and Kirika drip into the ground and evaporate.

They looked at the Cantabrians before them. So slender and random and dangerous. Thinly layered with green, as if someone took a roll of paint and scraped it along them. The lower tree-covered mountains rose to naked gray rocks, with purpled grooves in their scraggly forms.

Beckoning.

A beautiful day to be free.

Riki clenched her fists. "Those bitches will be fine on their own."

"Kirika . . . wasn't a bitch," murmured Audriane, as if afraid Riki would hate her for it.

Instead, Riki said nothing. For a second, Audriane thought she saw sympathy in her eyes—but then Riki started patting herself all over.

"Audriane! Where's that gun?"

Her friend gasped. "I . . . left it back in the monastery."

"WHY?"

"I didn't want him to see it on me!" Audriane thought it was a good reason, but Riki only freaked out more.

"We have to go back! That was our only weapon!"

Riki turned on her heels, but Audraine grabbed her arm. "Don't rush! He get more suspicious! Be calm! We walk together."

Riki glared at her. "If he finds it, I'm going to kill you."

Audriane snorted. "You said so yourself. What will a _monk_ do with a gun?"

They looked at each other. All of a sudden, the bubble of anger Riki felt inside her burst—into giggles. Audriane giggled too, as if forcing out something she'd been holding back. It was as if a giant boulder had been lifted off their backs. They looked at each other, saw a human being in each other.

It was a short-lived giggle, but felt good. Riki couldn't believe there was a tickle of laughter left inside her after everything they've been through. The school massacre. Being kidnapped. Being tracked down by a nocturnal hunter. Now this dark humor? She suddenly felt the need to cry her guts out, but held back the tears.

"C'mon," said Riki, clearing her throat. She led them back toward the monastery.

"If we run into him, maybe he'll feed us," said Audriane cheerfully, as if that exchange of giggles was all she needed to know they were friends. "Huh. We almost prioritized finding a town over him feeding us. Monasteries have refectories, so he _should_ be able to feed us."

Riki smirked, the first few of many to come. "I'm beginning to appreciate your Encyclopedia-of-a-mouth."

Audriane gave a flat expression. "You need me."

"Ha. You wish—."

_Click-ching!_

Audriane had cried out, grabbing her arm. Riki looked at her, confused.

"What is it?" shouted Riki. When Audriane only answered in whimpers, squeezing her arm, Riki reached for it. "Show me your arm!"

They both looked at it, seeing nothing at first, but then a red line slowly spread across Audriane's triceps. It was almost magical, how clean the cut was, how it appeared in front of their eyes just like that.

Then, what sounded like bells against rock. _Click-ching_! They snapped their heads toward something in the boulder only a foot behind them. It winked in the sunlight. Before they could figure out what it was, they heard the sound again. It was a whistling, high-pitched, almost like screeching wind in the distance.

Riki saw a black line in front of her. Then it became white. Then. _Closer_. It had already flown past her head, between her and Audriane. Instinct told her it was lethal. Already, she and Audriane dove behind the ragged rocks on the hill next to them—low rocks, but better than nothing.

The girls laid flat onto their stomachs, looking at each other.

Audriane panicked. "What was that?"

It hadn't been even gunfire, not even a bomb, and yet they felt the world buzz with silence, their hearts the only explosion in their heads. To think they would have been used to this already, being targeted—and yet they didn't know why.

Riki looked at the cut on Audriane's arm. "Knives," she huffed in reply.

Audriane's eyes widened. The idea of being cut to pieces rather than shot to death was apparently far more frightening to her.

"I'm gonna peek around, see who it is," said Riki, slowly moving.

Audriane grabbed her arm. "NO! You get stabbed in the face!"

"Well we can't just stay here! They'll get to us! We gotta surprise them!"

Holding her breath, Riki braced herself. She popped her head out for any quick scan of their situation, then ducked again.

"Shit!" she hissed.

"What? What, what!"

"They disappeared."

"What!"

"Hold on! And shut up, they'll hear you!" hissed Riki, glaring.

Audriane closed her mouth, bringing her knees under her as she sat on them and huddled against their rock. She planted her forehead against the dirt, as if hoping the world would disappear. She felt claustrophobic. In fact, all she saw was those white masks of the Knights that broke into their school. How they grinned at her, slipping through that glass like snakes, stepping into her world from their world of unimaginable darkness.

It hadn't been just an invasion of their school, but an invasion of her world.

That day, her world had crumbled, and this very moment behind the rock only reminded her of that.

She couldn't breathe, she couldn't move. She barely noticed how much she was shaking. Never did she think the same word could repeat in her head:

Why?

_Click-ching!_

That, and the sound of Riki slamming back onto the ground for cover, brought Audriane back.

"I saw someone," she whispered excitedly. "I think there's only one! I haven't seen others—he's doing all the throwing!"

"You sure?" said Audriane, trying to even her gasping for air.

Riki saw this, and put her hand on Audriane's shoulder. "I would comfort you," she said, "but we can't stay here. It's the two of us against him. We can take him!"

"We no combat training! Against _knives_!"

"If we run, we're only open game," retorted Riki.

"We fight, and we're open game!"

"_We_ make first blow!"

"Against a _pro_ who throws knives like THAT?"

Riki almost roared in frustration, but contained herself. They had no more time to lose, she realized. It had grown quiet out there. Silence was always bad. When their enemy was throwing knives she at least had a sense of where he was, how far away he was. She felt the situation climaxing.

She was eye-level with Audriane, speaking frantically but sternly, "_Look_. You make a run for the gun in the monastery. Get it, and hide there. I'll distract him."

Fleeing from someone throwing knives wasn't as fast and risky as someone shooting a gun. At least, in Riki's opinion.

"You haven't learned anything from last night!" said Audriane.

Frustrated, Riki grabbed her classmate's shoulders—who gasped, startled—and nearly shook her violently, but stopped herself. She felt her partner shaking. Remembered their little tender moment back a few minutes ago—_was_ it only _minutes_ ago?—how she was reminded that they were all human.

Riki exhaled, and tightened her grip on Audriane's shoulders. Stared her in the eyes. "Just get the gun."

She jumped to her feet and ran out into the open.

"RIKI!" shouted Audriane.

That last, quick glimpse of Riki was enough for Audriane to take in the expression on her face, a fierce, undying expression she would never forget.


	13. Chapter 13: Acquiescence

Chapter 13

Acquiescence

_Human,_ thought Riki as she rolled across the ground, just like Noir trained her, dodging a knife. _We're all human._

She charged at the rock where she last saw their predator.

_And so is THIS BITCH!_

A knife nearly struck Riki's ankle. She instantly broke out into a sweat, clambering to her feet. She charged. Blindly.

_Just make it to the rock!_

She threw herself low against the rock where she last saw their enemy hiding on the other side. It would obscure her enemy's sight _just_ for a second. Riki stayed low, hands and feet ready to throw herself opposite wherever the enemy attacked from. She waited. Tried to breathe, tried to silence her panting. Strained to hear what was going on the other side of the rock. Her body trembled, as if yearning for action.

She heard scraping against grass.

Riki moved, ready to react—but a shadow eclipsed her world. She looked up, as something flew overhead. Then, there _she_ was, the predator, behind her, standing there.

It was the girl from last night. Who else would it be?

And what the _hell_ was she wearing?

Those were Riki's ridiculous last thoughts before she realized the girl was about to throw a knife at her.

"RIKI!"

_Who was that? _

By then, she'd already expected a knife at her throat, expected a blinding vision of her own blood spraying everywhere. But nothing happened. Because both Riki and the stranger looked over and saw Audriane—

Wait, what was she still doing here! Did she get the gun already—no, that was _too_ fast . . .!

"Dammit, Audriane—!" gasped Riki, but their enemy turned around and slammed her into against rock; Riki felt the world slam hard against the back of her head.

Then there was a gunshot.

Riki's eyes were open, but she couldn't see anything. It was her vision; it swayed from the throbbing pain in her head. Colors blinked in her peripheral vision as she tried to look up. Pain stiffened her spine. She couldn't move. She was barely on the edge of consciousness, felt herself slipping in and out of an abyss that wanted to swallow her. She wanted to scream, while needles of pain bit into every inch of her body—but only her mouth opened, a moan barely escaping.

The crackle and pop of gunfire filled her ears. What was going on?

Riki's vision gradually started to clear. She blinked. The pain was replaced by a numbness that made her wonder if she could move. She shifted to her right, then rolled to her left, then leaned up on an elbow, woozy and weak. She tried to yell for Audriane, but only a gurgling groan came out. On her hands and knees like a wounded dog, she started crawling. Throbbing in pain, as she watched the world tilt, then crash.

Shouts.

Two, then three figures stood over her.

Riki realized she'd collapsed, her face resting against pebbles and dirt and grass, yet she couldn't remember when it had happened. She felt hands pulling at her shirt, felt herself lifted through the air. Then back down, slung over something soft, but not too soft either—a ridge of some sort. Something thick yet dry. Her arms and legs were swinging on either side of her.

"Sorry, kid," said a familiar voice. "Could've been a bit more gentle, I suppose."

Mireille.

At first, Riki felt confusion. Then, as she neared unconsciousness, an indescribable joy lifted her heart—they were safe. She wanted to grunt her gratitude, but closed her eyes and passed out.

…

She felt her legs bobbing and thumping against something. Her head nodded to the bouncing. Something warm and firm wrapped around her stomach. Looking down, flashes of green. The beautiful rhythmic sound of hooves. A horse snorting.

Finally, Riki woke to see Audriane's face staring down at her. She looked worried. There was a dark dirt stain on her forehead and a bruise forming on her cheek. Her wounds seemed to remind Riki of her own, the sting across her whole body.

"Riki!" she exclaimed.

Riki shifted to lean on her elbow and winced at the pinching pain up her spine, and the throb in her head. It was like a headache, but all around the surfaces of her head: her forehead, behind her eyes, in her temples, against the back of her head.

"Here, eat," said Audriane softly. She held out something in her hand.

Things were blurry for a second, and at first Riki didn't believe that what she thought was just a few inches from her face was real. But then its image sharpened, and she recognized the red roundness of the apple, with flecks of green scattered across its shiny surface.

"Where'd you . . ." Riki didn't bother to finish, those two words alone sapping her strength.

"Just eat it," said Audriane, followed by a wet crunch, eating her own.

Drawing the last remnants of energy from somewhere deep inside herself, Riki pushed herself up onto an elbow and grabbed the fruit. She bit into it, and tasted that burst of flavor.

Moaning, she attacked the rest of it and had eaten down to its stumpy core before Audriane had even finished hers despite the head start.

Audriane smiled. "Don't eat too fast, you just throw it right back up."

"I don't care if I have to eat it again," mumbled Riki jokingly.

"Here's another one. _Slow_, this time."

She handed over another apple to Riki, who took it without saying thank you and chomped a big bite. As she chewed, she could actually feel the first traces of energy trickling through her body.

"_So_ good," said Riki through her muffled chewing. "Where'd you get these?" Riki paused, looking around them. "Hell, where are we?"

"The monastery."

"Really?" Riki sat up, realizing she sat on something soft. She looked around herself, seeing that she was sitting on clovers. The garth.

"It was the softest surface we could find for your head," said Audriane.

"Where's . . . Mireille and Kirika?" asked Riki.

"In the refectory, with the monk. They're preparing our meals."

"Oh . . . did he hear all that gunfire?"

"I hope not. I'd feel bad."

Riki looked at Audriane in the eyes for the first time. The girl looked tired. Clearing her throat, Riki said, "Hey . . . um, thanks."

Audriane hesitated. "Thank Mireille and Kirika."

Suddenly all of Riki's memories shot through her mind like an arrow. That woman. Their enemy. Knives. Blue eyes. Strange clothes. Riki stood abruptly, causing her to sway. Audriane did as well, staying close, giving Riki a worried sweeping glance.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"Take me to the rectory—."

"_Refectory_—."

"Refectory." Although she had asked Audriane to lead, Riki already started walking. Audriane had to turn her around, then gestured her to follow her in the other direction.

The refectory was next door on the other side of the garth's south wall. There, they entered a long, narrow room with stone tables stretching the whole span on either side. Bricks were flattened against the beige walls, the paint long chipped and stripped of its hue. The thin, narrow windows allowed little room for sun, but there was something holy about the streaks of light streaming through.

At the far end, they saw Mireille, Kirika, and the monk setting down musty dishes of muted colors.

When Noir heard their footsteps echo in the chamber, they turned.

"What are you doing walking around like that?" said Mireille, hand on her hip. "Stay down. You may have a concussion. We have someone here to take a look at you."

Riki gestured to their surroundings. "By whom, in this godforsaken wild?"

They approached the three at the stone table that seemed to be melded into the wall, absent of legs.

When Audriane saw the monk, she pointed to him. "Can't he look at Riki's head?" she asked.

The monk smiled, but said nothing; Mireille spoke for him. "Bakar's monastic schooling has so far taught him only herbal remedies. So, no, he wouldn't know how to inspect for possible concussions."

Mireille raised a hand to stop further comments. "With that said . . . eat. Afterwards we head back to Etxarren."

Riki would have argued, but her energy was still low, and her head fuzzy. For the first time, she gladly obeyed Mireille. She grabbed a plate of cheese, grapes, bread, and apples and hopped onto the table. Audriane sat next to her.

As they ate, Mireille cut to the point. "So. Do you know who attacked you?"

Riki grumbled and chewed, bits of apple falling from her mouth as she ate ravenously. "You're the ones who fought her off, apparently."

"This good idea, to say in front of Bakar?" asked Audriane, nodding sideways to the monk who went through the other door leading to the kitchen. They heard the obvious clamor of pots and silverware.

"Oh, Bakar knows everything," said Mireille curtly. "When we came along, he told us where he'd heard it. He also claims to have met the woman prior to meeting you two. He identified her as six foot tall, auburn hair, shoulder-lengthed."

Riki gaped at Mireille, food falling from her mouth for the second time before she remembered to swallow. "If Bakar gave you info, why you asking us?"

"In case you may have seen her face, since you were attacked."

Kirika consoled, "It's ok if you don't remember much. Those in panic, who suffer post traumatic stress, black out on such details—barely remember a _thing_. Until all memories ambush them, randomly."

Riki struggled to think, but shook her head. "What else did Bakar say?"

"She wore a mask . . ."

Riki's heart pumped with anticipation.

"Behind it, he saw blue eyes. And he made it important to add how _kind_ she was, strangely."

Riki and Audriane looked at each other.

Mireille's eyes were squinty with scrutiny. "So. Familiar face?"

"Even without the mask, why ask if we know someone who wants to kill us?" Riki snorted half-heartily. "_Yeah_, after she rammed my head against rock, I told her I forgave her and we had a nice picnic in the monastery. We then had a sleepover in the garth, shopped at nearby town, and talked about boys. Together, as friends, laughing."

Riki paused. Why did it feel like déjà vu?

Kirika cut in before Mireille could retaliate against Riki's sarcasm. "We ask if you may have known her just to be safe. Just so we know who we're up against, what she looks like, and her motives."

"Who would want to kill us other than anyone related to this Noir crap—?" began Riki, when she stopped herself.

Everyone looked at her inquiringly, but she shook that second of hesitation off.

"Seriously," she said, "who would _we_ know? The only ones who can tell us that are you two—."

"Ok, so, obviously you're not in the condition or _mood_ to discuss this," said Mireille, sighing. "Just hurry up and eat. We go back to Etxarren. Someone's there to patch you up."

"Why the hell would I go back there?"

Mireille wrapped her hair behind her as if to make a ponytail, but only to save herself from the humidity. "Yeah, yeah, we know you hate us and Noir and hermit life in the mountains, but we gotta go back and have our doctor look at any damage you may have taken."

"We're fine," said Riki. "And we're gonna keep heading to Laguardia."

"No you're not fine, you may have internal bleeding, and no, you're not going to Laguardia."

"Damn you for making it sound like we were far from civilization! You lied to us—oh wait—STUNNED," said Riki sarcastically, fingers pointed at herself like a gun.

"_Enough_. We saved your lives, what, three times now? The least you could do is come back with us."

"We're not going back there—!"

"You _know_ what will happen if you leave the Cantabrians. They'll kill _all_ of us—."

"Risking our lives to get to Laguardia or wherever civilization is—it's better than this life you chose for us—."

"Pah! With that killer out there? You don't know what she could do to you, who ordered her—."

"At least she was quiet—."

"I should be saying that about you—ugh! Fine. You know what? Kirika, shoot her brains out like last time."

Riki didn't feel threatened, just folded her arms and spouted acerbity. "It kind of beats the whole point of this Asher contract," growled Riki. "Worsen my injuries, and you'll never get that training you want—."

Mireille suddenly slammed her fist on the table next to Riki. "LOOK, I know I'm not likeable! But what about Kirika?" She pointed at the brunette next to her. "I know you don't hate her anywhere as much as me. I know that she's been kind to you behind my back. I know you don't have anyone worth dying for, but _I_ do! Don't mind if I die, but would you mind _her_ dying? Would you not _flinch_ just at the _thought_ of her dying? Or anyone dying? Anyone like Audriane, or a classmate, or even a monk? I'm ASKING you, would you mind? Would you care? Do you really care for just yourself—are you really that heartless? I'm ASKING you!"

"And I ask you, why you would put yourselves before _kids_?" roared Riki.

"SO WE'RE EVEN!" interrupted Mireille, throwing her arms up. "We're both horrible!" She leaned in close. "But not heartless. We work this out together."

"How can we when I can't even trust you? You don't tell us anything!"

"You don't say so much yourself," said Mireille, lowering her voice, but keeping it strong. "I'm ASKING you, can we work this out?"

"Answer that yourself, then. Are you willing to tell us everything?"

Mireille fell silent, but only for a couple of seconds. "Depends on you, too. But, yes, maybe, in time, we can explain everything. But I'm asking you—I'm _begging_ you—return to Etxarren with us. I _can_ tell you this, we don't know what is a trial and what isn't. Who knows when they'll actually decide to kill you. For all we know, they had _anticipated_ you trying to escape Etxarren so they could send that woman after you to capture you, or eliminate you, who knows. _Really_, I don't know who sent that woman. But point is, they could throw anything at us, at you two. If you want to make it out of this Noir crap alive, you stick with us. Don't wander off, or you'll put everyone in danger—Kirika and I were already in a fight on our way here to get you because Asher sensed our training wasn't going the way he liked. Ok? So please, let's go back, and make you stronger."

Kirika finally jumped in. "Think of it this way. No journey is without its obstacles. You have to become stronger, and we can help you with that."

It fell silent. The teenagers looked at Noir, sensing Mireille's humiliation at having to lower to such . . . weakness. Softness. Vulnerability. Riki almost liked it, until something softened in her. She watched the woman's face, a battlefield of emotions, of struggle, of hatred, pain and desperation, nothing held back. It blushed with pride that had been lost, but with emotion.

Audriane watched how Kirika stepped a little closer to Mireille, looking at her with concern. There it was again, that spark, that devotion. It was just what she and Riki needed to survive.

Audriane looked at her nearly-empty plate. "We're sorry," she murmured, looking up. "We promise, we won't abandon you."

It was as if she turned a switch off in Riki, who'd been wavering, but glared at her partner. Audriane only answered with a stern nod.

"So many times, you could have abandoned us," said Audriane. "With that Shirihime woman, and Asher, and other factions, it clear now. We work this out."

She wasn't sure if she was entirely ok with what she was saying. She could feel the seed of doubt in her, of panic. What if they were stuck in this godforsaken place, as beautiful as it was? What if through all their efforts, Noir abandoned them? If Asher and the other factions decided to go in for the kill? How long would it be before the Soldats' need for entertainment ran dry? All of this teamwork and training—then inevitable death?

Should they run for it? No . . . that was speeding up death, without Mireille and Kirika's protection . . .

Riki was still glaring at her. Audriane had about had it, and turned to her menacingly. "This is the best idea, Riki," she snarled.

Her partner sighed, a look of defiance yet consent. "Well," she said, "I'd better not be internally bleeding from those blows. Let's go. The sooner we get stronger, the better. But remember, no secrets, no lies."

"Right," said Audriane, as they put their plates aside on the table. "Tell us everything. At least, bit by bit. Riki won't survive from overload of information."

"That's not funny," said Riki flatly.

Kirika smiled. It was small, but it was bright. She looked over at Mireille, who looked emotionally defeated yet impatient.

"Ok," said Kirika, nodding.


	14. Chapter 14: Third

Chapter 14

Third

"Do they know?"

"Who about what?"

"You know what I mean."

"About the Three Saplings? Probably not. I doubt Noir told them everything."

"They will have to know eventually. Otherwise, it's unfair to them. What we're doing. Tell me . . . why did you tell me everything, whereas they barely know a thing?"

"You know about Noir's Trials. How one makes of a situation, of a relationship. Testing to see how they fare from different soils and different amounts of water and light."

"'Let us feed the Saplings with water and light' . . . Gimme a break."

"Look at _you_, you're a blooming example. You know almost everything about Noir, and for some reason, you're willing to soak yourself into the darkness, whereas they aren't."

"It's _cruel_."

"But you do as the Soldats asks, what I ask anyway. Why question it for those two but not for yourself?"

Snort. "I guess that's the curse of the Third."

"Seems to be. At least for you. You may not like to admit it, but you have ego. I guess after thinking you lost everything, you thought, 'Why not? What else do I got to lose?'"

"Speaking of Thirds . . . why me? Why did you save me?"

"I suppose fate. I wasn't planning on it, nor our lord. This tends to happen in the Trials. I mean, look at you, you're just as new as the other two, but you've grown! Your aim could use improvement, but still, we didn't expect you to exceed at this rate—."

"I almost killed them."

Pause. "I'm surprised you haven't tried to kill _me_ for that."

Glare. "You're right. But . . ." Shrug. "I mean, I didn't know them that well. I didn't know her, but still . . . thank god for my awful aim because I could have killed her. I . . . I could have killed her."

Mocking. "I taught you well."

"That's not funny! I couldn't recognize her from afar, she looked so different—damn, I didn't _know_! I didn't think others had survived, let alone get dragged to the Cantabrians—into _this_! Why didn't you tell me they had survived?"

"You know why. The trials."

"It's repulsive!"

Shrug. "If it is, why not kill me and everyone else? Why you still here, letting me groom you? You can't do anything about what's passed."

Silence. "Don't make me hate you."

"At least that separates us from their trainers. It's what makes _you_ successful, because for some weird reason, you trust me. We have trust that keeps us together as a team."

Grunt. "I dunno, you remind me of someone, someone I should care about. I can't tell who."

"Really? Flattered."

"That doesn't get you off the hook for lying to me about survivors, and then about who my targets were. Alright?"

"You're awfully sweet for a girl of your deadly skill."

Dark brooding, but a tentative sigh. "I guess I should be grateful. You _did_ save me."

"I didn't have to . . ."

"_I get it_. In any case, when will I be able to reveal myself to them?"

"You know when people say, 'When the time comes, you'll know'?"

"Yeah?"

Smile. "Guess what I'm going to say."

Sigh. "When the time comes. I know."

….

It was unsettling to be surrounded by Soldats. Standing by the door, by the barn, by the pond, by the dirt trail. Hovering over Riki and company. Silent, impassive faces. Shades and black suits; so much black.

Mireille hated every moment of it, as much as Riki did. She could see it on the high schooler's face as the doctor questioned her, checking her head.

"Any headaches?" asked the doctor.

"I got my head rammed against rock, so . . . _yeah_," said Riki rather sardonically.

"Dizziness?"

"Head against _rock_."

He seemed entertained. "Feel tired? Sensitivity to noise or light?"

"Me? Tired? After a battle with your angel of death you guys sent?"

The doctor chuckled, his voice warm. "Hey, I'm just the doctor."

"A Soldat nonetheless," growled Mireille.

"Who has a name," replied the doctor with a tip of his head. "You can call me Stefan. And I will call you Mireille and Kirika and Riki and Audriane." He returned to his examination on Riki. "So, your emotional mood? Any irritability, nervousness, anxiety—?"

"I seriously think he's just playing with you," said Audriane, budging an awkward smile; she didn't know what reaction she'd get from Riki.

Riki folded her arms. "Yeah. I know."

Stefan grinned. "Ah, so you got me. Noir wins, Soldats lose."

"Get out," blurted Mireille. They were positive if she was forced to repeat that for the third time, she would have thrown a chair at him or shoot him out the door.

Ignoring the glares in the room, Stefan packed his things and headed out the door. All his men in suits followed sharply, broad, but stiff, as if expecting Noir to jump them.

Kirika walked up to Stefan, blocking his exit. "So she has a light concussion, at the least?"

"Yes," he said. "And no internal bleeding or brain clogs from the blow. Just keep a close eye on her." Stefan paused, looking Kirika up and down with fascination. "I say, I didn't think Noir would be concerned for others . . . or to be a pint of a size."

Kirika's expression stoned. "Please, not in front of the children."

Stefan's joking smile faded when he realized he hit a nerve. He looked at the teenagers, then back at Kirika, and frowned. "They don't realize when we say

'Noir', we refer to _you _—?"

"KIRIKA," called Mireille from the doorway. "Stay away from that Soldat."

"Ah, got me again!" said Stefan, pretending to make a break for it. He stopped and turned away, smiling at Kirika, who looked at him strangely.

He was in the middle of giving a short wave, when he stopped himself. "Oh, almost forgot. Give her the letter."

One of his guards approached Kirika and handed her over a white envelope with the Soldats waxed seal of the Maidens. The moment they handed it to her, Mireille was by Kirika's side. Interestingly, the guard backed away nervously. Noir forgot that they were _the_ Noir—technically, they still were.

Mireille grinned to herself, glared at the rest of the bodyguards. They shifted on their feet but didn't stir until Stefan led them out.

…

"I'm surprised it wasn't that Shirihime woman who came this time," said Audriane.

"Shoot me if I see her again," said Riki, kicking her feet in the pond.

Audriane looked at her incredulously. "You sure you feel ok?"

"I do feel one symptom of a concussion," said Riki. "_Irritability_. When will they stop reading that damn letter so we can start some Q&A's?"

Audriane looked over their shoulders at Mireille and Kirika by the Etxarren entrance hovering over Stefan's letter. She shrugged.

Riki sniffed, vexed. "First, some Q&A's on that damn letter."

"Yeah . . . also . . ." murmured Audriane, in thought. "Now that I think about it, they acting weird when they asked if we knew that woman who attacked us. Like, as if we _should_ know. You know?"

"Yeah . . ." Riki trailed off.

Audriane looked at her. She remembered the moment when Riki paused during her argument with Mireille in the monastery. She had nearly forgotten about it, until right now with Riki wearing that same expression. She couldn't tell if it was epiphany or confusion, but was determined to get answers. If they were to "work this out", they needed to improve their _communication_, if not trust, in each other, at least of all people.

"Riki," murmured Audriane. "What is it?"

Her partner looked at her as if shocked she read her. "What?"

"Don't play dumb. My Japanese and English ok. I read and hear it better than speak it—but looking and reading a person's face, anyone can do."

Hesitation.

Audriane glared. "Riki. Trust me. Please."

Riki sighed. "It's not _that_. I just don't know if I'm sure . . . if I want to believe." When Audriane said nothing, Riki took that as a sign to continue. "Think about it. Remember when you shouted my name before our attacker struck me? And the way Bakar described her? Audriane, do you think our attacker was . . . Sakuya?"

At first, Audriane didn't recognize the name, for it's been a while. Then, she remembered. "_What?_ Not possible!"

"I don't know why I think that," said Riki. "But thinking back when I was this close to looking her in the eyes . . . it looked like her! Her hair wasn't waves and curls, and she was tanner, but really, I think it was her . . .!"

Audriane's voice rose slightly. "No! But . . ." Her voice dropped to whisper for a second, as if to herself: " I saw her _dying_—no, if it is, why would she want to kill us? Kill _anyone_?"

Riki didn't seem to catch that last part; her eyes lit up. "If it's Sakuya, if by weird, crazy chance she's been roped into this and ordered around by the Soldats—maybe she could tell us everything! She can explain to us what's going on! She won't hesitate, she'll—!"

"She tried to _kill_ us, Riki," repeated Audriane, staring deep into Riki's eyes discouragingly. "There no talking with someone with such intentions! She obeyed orders to go after someone and kill them without remorse, without hesitation. No . . . _no_! I don't want to talk to someone like that!"

"I don't think she recognized us," whispered Riki.

"Huh?"

"I think, like Mireille and Kirika, she was obeying shadows. She's left in the dark like the rest of us—she can help us!"

"Riki . . ." Audriane shook her head, eyes trembling with doubt. "It couldn't have been her. Who goes to kill? Just like that?"

"It's no different from what we're about to do," whispered Riki. "I know we're gonna eventually have to do more killing, just like she had to. Now the question is, why she was separated from us in her training—?"

"Riki. It _couldn't_ be her. I saw her . . . at the massacre."

"You . . . wait, what do you mean?"

"There was a hole in her chest. She was gasping for air. She was bleeding horribly." Audriane held her breath, reliving her trauma. She watched Riki's reaction, and decided to push it a little. "I saw her _dying_, Riki."

Riki was wide-eyed. "Why didn't you DO something to save her—?"

"Like _what_?" burst Audriane. "I am a freshman in high school. So are you. I didn't know anything, how to react to _that_! I was running for my LIFE!"

She stood up, heat swelling in her chest, like a plague in her body. She couldn't believe it. There _it_ was again, that look in Riki's eyes—that feeling Audriane felt resonating from her at every mention of Sakuya, a random classmate, a stranger, a girl who she saw _dying_ on a corpse-strewn cafeteria floor slippery with blood. This girl was the same irrational reason that nearly drove Riki to go back into the school while the massacre was still going. The same reason that endangered them all when they tried fleeing all those men. There was something strange, uncomfortable, mysterious, and nonsensical about Sakuya altogether.

Audriane saw something she's never seen in Riki's eyes, a glow that wouldn't shine for anyone else but this Sakuya. And she knew for a fact, being observant as she was famously known for, that Riki and Sakuya had never been friends who hung out on a daily basis.

"You . . . did you _like_ Sakuya?" whispered Audriane, slowly, as if the subtle word was allowing a foreign parasite to creep into her system.

Riki's eyes were glazed over, then she slowly remembered Audriane was there next to her. It was an expression that further pushed Audriane over the edge, dumbfounded: after all _this_, after everything they've been through, Riki had been thinking of Sakuya.

_No_. This Sakuya was going to mess things up—their trust with Mireille and Kirika, and their partnership. If it _was_ Sakuya, then it was clear that she was hellbent on killing them, on some other Soldats faction's orders, enemies of Sir Asher, of Shirihime—who they disliked, as much as they did Mireille and Kirika. They were enemies of Noir. Enemies of Riki and Audriane.

As this all processed in Audriane's mind, Riki, meanwhile, looked at her as if Audriane spoke an ugly truth that no one wanted to say. The elephant in the room—in Riki's gut, in her heart . . . it was finally inflating, forcing itself out. Or was it not an elephant, but something else? What was this feeling? Was it really . . . romance, for the lack of a better word?

Audriane looked at Riki, for the first time in a different light. She felt a tinge of revolt—she felt like she _should_—but she wasn't sure what to feel just yet, either.

She was about to say something when Mireille and Kirika joined them. "So, you gonna come inside so we can tell you everything we can?" said Mireille.

….

Mireille started without wasting time. "A couple of things. For one, that the letter was from Sir Asher. He demands we return to our training immediately. As vulgar as this sounds, he _congratulates_ us for surviving _another_ trial—not just that of Riki and Audriane surviving on their own in the wilderness, but of Kirika and I fighting and fleeing Asher's men, and then taking on your attacker. At some point, he expects us to take up 'assignments', 'missions', whatever you want to call them. It could happen three days from now—hell, even today."

That last part was obviously a joke, but Riki and Audriane's grimace discouraged Mireille from more attempts.

"So expect your training to get harsher. Stick to it, stay with us, and you'll survive—."

"And when we do, when we _succeed_, what happens to you?" blurted Audriane.

"You won't see us again," said Mireille, smiling triumphantly. "The good kind."

"Keep going," urged Riki.

"Second," said Mireille, "that you should, you deserve to, know more about the Soldats."

"About fucking time," said Riki.

"You've got quite a mouth on you for a freshman," said Mireille.

The children leaned forward on their beds.

"Mireille," said Kirika.

"Anyway. It's going to take time to explain all of it to you. It'll be _a lot_ to take in. But in the meantime, shall we attempt?" Oxygen seemed to catch in Mireille's chest; she exhaled. "The Soldats. In their vast entirety, they were a group of people a thousand years ago who survived a bloody war. Many lives were lost, many atrocities witnessed. A group called Les Soldats formed—sworn to protect the weak and take revenge against the world. They became the very shadow that dominated Europe for centuries. They took place in every social part of humanity. For example, they witnessed the birth of certain mafias, some created two-hundred-years ago. However, the Soldats have been consumed by the very greed they swore to undo."

"Sounds like a cautionary tale," scoffed Riki.

"A bedtime story," added Audriane.

"The underworld business isn't something _petty_ to make fun of lightly," said Mireille, raising her eyebrows. "Add it to what you learned in History class."

"Hence, the factions?" asked Audriane, pressing them on.

Kirika nodded. "Yes. They fight over Noir, for control of Noir . . . who should become Noir."

"I feel wanted and loved," said Riki with a flat expression. "Ok, ok, but in all seriousness. So . . . it is a mafia kind of thing, for the sake of comparing . . . right? Groups fighting over territory, only this time, more like who gets the best hitman, the best police dog, the best weapon?"

"Sure, if that's how you can comprehend it," snorted Mireille.

"And there were Noir's before us?"

Mireille hesitated, but only for a second before Riki caught it. "Yes. The pro's about the title of Noir is that you strike fear in the hearts of many. They think you're the same angel of death, this centuries-old guy that refuses to die. Sort of speak. Think of it like this—those suited men that were with Stefan were afraid of you."

"Really?" asked Audriane.

"Yeah," said Riki, thinking, "I kinda remember them looking like they were on edge. Which is funny, cuz _I_ was on edge."

"Which is why they were on edge. Too bad they weren't like that at the massacre," began Mireille, when Kirika glared at her. She cleared her throat, shrugging. "This is why you should look at the bright side of things. Doesn't matter how old you are or what sex. There used to be Noir's younger than you running around as the grim reaper."

"Really? That's creepy. Horror movies were enough for me, all those children with their dolls," said Riki, wiggling her fingers as though they were spiders.

"You could walk into a room full of thugs and their syndicate lord, and if you told them you were Noir, they'd be shaking," said Mireille. "Well, _don't_ do that, walking in just like that. It's stupid."

Kirika frowned at Mireille, then looked at the children, hoping they weren't finding this fun. "Also," she added reluctantly, "most still believe it's the name for one person. That was back when the Soldats of Old were around. With the the Soldats of New, established recently, however . . . they started something to alter old traditions. The trials . . . of the Three Saplings."

The students perked up at the sound of that, while Kirika fished for something in her pocket.

"We found this from your battle with that woman," she said.

She pulled out a knife.

"These particular blades have only been seen a few times through the generations of Noir," said Kirika, her finger gently tracing the skinny T-shaped silver. "First, here, with you two. And from the last known Third Sapling."

Audriane burst. "Third Sapling! I knew it, I knew it had to do something with Noir, with the number three!"

Kirika nodded solemnly, while Mireille discerned Audriane's excitement.

"_So_," said Mireille, "you know about the trials, the Soldats' desire to control and choose Noir, the very pair originally created to protect the innocent. I'm assuming you put two and two together."

"We're not the _only_ chosen ones?" guessed Audriane, slowly.

"'Chosen ones'," chuckled Mireille to herself.

Kirika answered. "Correct. There is yet a Third Sapling. You two are the First and the Second Saplings."

"That's why you asked if we . . . knew that woman sent after us!" gasped Audriane. She shot a look at Riki, as if expecting this to be the moment for her partner to confess about Sakuya.

Noir shot a glance at Riki, whose jaw dropped. She shook her head and snapped, "Wait? _Candidates_? Chosen to become Noir? I don't understand. I know my vocabulary isn't kick-ass, but if the definition of 'candidates' is what I think it is, then that means . . . we're _not_ Noir? Not yet? This training isn't because we _are_ but because we _could_ be? And that chance is sliced by the Third Sapling?"

"Yes," said Mireille, sensing their increasing grasp of things. She hardened her tone. "Listen well. We're training you to survive because the Third Sapling is part of the Trials. She or he could stop you."

"Survive?" said Riki. "That sounds like it entails . . . we survive each other." The color melted from Riki's face; she turned pallid. "We have to kill _each other_?"

Kirika nodded, dropping her gaze to the ground. The guilt was nauseating. "Yes. In the olden days, it was each Sapling for herself. Take down at least one other Sapling, and you're Noir with the surviving candidate. Right now, you two were fortunate to be picked from the massacre, side-by-side, so you don't have to worry about Riki killing Audriane or Audriane killing Riki. You trust each other more than anyone else in this room, in the world. I hope."

"For now, you just have to worry about the Third Sapling," said Mireille. "Which is why it was important for us to ask you if you knew the woman who attacked you. Because she was most likely—no, _definitely_—the Third Sapling."

The girls looked at each other in horror.

_Riki, tell them! _thought Audriane.

_If they know it's Sakuya, they'll kill her, _thought Riki.

"It has become a noticed pattern," announced Kirika, "that the Third Sapling has been raised differently and separately from the First and Second. You can tell by the way she carries herself, the way she is dressed, the different choice of weapons, such as this blade . . ."

They could tell by the way Kirika paused dramatically, that the last sentence was not going to Band-Aid the already-bad news they've heard.

"_And_ it's also become a noticed pattern," finalized Kirika, "that at one point or another, tides change between all Three Saplings."


	15. Chapter 15: Encounter

Chapter 15

Encounter

"Tell them about her!" said Audriane.

They were carrying the large bucket of water back toward Etxarren. Being stuck in this position holding onto the handle made it very difficult for Riki to listen to Audriane lecture her.

"No, I'm not gonna endanger a classmate like that," said Riki, her voice taut with the need to remain calm.

"They need to know about her, they need to ask this Sir Asher if he knows anything about her. He has resources that can answer everything—!"

"I'm not going to the guy who forced us into this shithole," said Riki. "The fact that he threatened Mireille and Kirika, just to _train_ us, says enough about him. He's worse than them. Despite that, we have to play this stupid game if we're going to make it out alive. But that doesn't mean we need to kill Sakuya."

"She'll _kill_ us," stressed Audriane. They both stopped in their tracks, as she held Riki's gaze. "And if she _isn't_ Sakuya? We risk some softness and she then stabs us in the backs? LITERALLY!" Audriane nearly threw both hands in the air, resulting in the bucket to lop-side as Riki held on tight, cursing.

"I _know_ it's her—," began Riki.

"I won't die because of your lack of evidence. I refuse to die. I will learn to fight, I will listen to Mireille and Kirika so we walk out here with knowledge and power. Why you not listen to them? Why you not understand that Sakuya brainwashed by now?"

"That's stupid," scoffed Riki. "She's smart. Anyone without a brain knows this is all bullshit—."

"SHE. TRIED. TO. KILL. US! She believes in Noir, in power. She's not the same classmate you knew, she's not some teenager. She's a trained killer thanks to the Soldats!"

"I don't believe that anyone would fall easily to the Soldats' notions."

"You don't believe anything, you won't believe anything anyone says!"

"Says the one who refuses to believe in Sakuya. If you gotta see to believe, then . . ." Riki dropped the bucket; Audriane roared in annoyance as water splashed their feet. "Let's go find Sakuya and hear from her side."

Audriane made a disgusted face at what she was hearing. Then, a dramatic pause, before she said, _"No!"_

"She was really . . . skilled," said Riki slowly. "We could use that to our advantage."

"I don't trust anyone but Mireille, Kirika, and you. No one else."

"That's adamant of you."

"It's smart."

"So is bringing Sakuya to our side—if your claims of her being 'brainwashed' are true." Riki rolled her eyes at that last part.

Audriane could not believe Riki didn't see the problem here with Sakuya. "At least tell Mireille and Kirika! See what they think."

"They'll just tell us to fight for our lives against Sakuya! They were assigned to train us, to worry about just _us_, not Sakuya! You saw the way they talked about 'Third Saplings'?"

"If we don't tell them, they could shoot her on sight, anyway!"

"Well your Japanese is getting better," said Riki dryly, heaving the bucket up.

Audriane grabbed the handle fiercely, almost in defeat. "The one time you thinking about others . . ." she grumbled.

They took large, awkward steps; they still didn't feel any stronger than before like Noir insisted they would from carrying the bucket around. In fact, they felt more anchored than ever. Their own lives weren't at stake anymore—so were Mireille and Kirika's . . . and Sakuya's. A whole new bigger burden. A weight on their shoulders. It was confusing how the world once seemed to shrink, revolve, around this simple goal of staying alive. Now it was small in comparison now that they had more people to keep in mind.

"When we get back to Etxarren," grunted Audriane, "I want our sole purpose, our only focus, to be nothing but training. Not Sakuya, not escape. Just surviving."

"Audriane . . ." began Riki.

"What?" Then it occurred to Audriane that it wasn't often she heard Riki say her name. She glanced sideways, then went back to focusing on their steps.

"If it's her, we're not leaving this place without Sakuya."

"What makes you think she wants to leave? She's the Third Sapling—trained by some other faction to kill the first two Saplings. Us. She has her own life to worry about. She barely knew you—she doesn't know me. There's no point. She's their dog."

Riki nearly dropped the bucket at Audriane's feet, turning to face her, face red. "Don't call her that. Don't refer to any of us like that. I refuse to be anyone's pet, fetching, obeying, huddling in a corner with my tail between my legs. I hate the 'dog' metaphor a lot anyway, I've heard it too much in Literature class, so, let's try not to use that metaphor again, ok? And second, you're a hypocrite, you know that? _You're_ the one who wants to stay, not me, the one who wants to become Noir. Despite everything Mireille and Kirika told us, we still know nothing about Noir—and you still goddamn want to stay!"

Audriane's brows hooded her eyes in this dark mask. "The difference between Sakuya and I is that I want to leave with what Mireille and Kirika taught us. If Sakuya really was on our side, she would have been training side-by-side with us—."

"Apparently the Soldats took her from the school!" argued Riki. "My only guess is that if she couldn't even recognize me, it must mean she didn't realize we survived. Remember when we didn't think anyone we knew survived?"

Audriane snapped, "We need to stop referring to this woman as if we know she's Sakuya. We don't have proof she's Sakuya—."

Suddenly they bumped into someone. They nearly stumbled past the person, both grazing by a pair of shoulders, dropping the bucket. When they turned around, they saw that the bucket hadn't fallen. The person caught it.

And when she turned around, a rush of shock passed through them; they froze.

She was as they last saw her: in weird, scanty clothing you could barely even call clothing. It was mere flaps of cloth covering just her bosom and pelvis, revealing a strong anatomy that has been through a lot: powerful legs, thin but toned arms, and a taut, flat stomach. And lots of scars. Her hoodie was the only thing that seemed to keep down the flap across her chest.

And the mask that had covered her mouth, that had kept them from truly telling if it was Sakuya, was down like a bandana around her neck and forehead—with the familiar crescent grin of the Knights they had faced, smiling back at them. Thank god she wasn't wearing it now.

She stepped forward in Greek-styled, knee-high sandals—making them feel like they entered a dark, mysterious, separate world.

"Hey, remember me? Sakuya?" she said nervously.

Audriane was about to charge her, but Riki blurted, "It IS you!"

Sakuya frowned apologetically. "Yeah. Look, I'm so sorry about attacking you, I didn't know it was you—."

Riki cut her off, shoving her. "THE HELL? It's gonna take more than an apology for nearly killing me—shit, is it really you? I knew it was you, but seeing you standing there—I still can't believe . . ." Riki trailed off, clutching her hair in disbelief. "Dammit, what happened to you? Explain yourself!"

"You've got a lot of nerve showing your face to us," growled Audriane. "And what's with the outfit?"

Sakuya scanned herself. "Tradition, I guess."

Audriane raised her eyebrows. "Whose tradition? The Soldats?"

Sakuya put a hand on her hip. "Who else?" She snorted with a wide grin. Her eyes, so gentle though . . .

Riki knew instantly there wasn't a bad bone in her body. Just like she remembered her.

"W-wow . . ." stammered Riki, giving Sakuya's image a flicker. "Can't believe you were a . . . _student_."

"Same goes for you," said Sakuya in a neutral tone. "Not just appearance-wise, but the way you took me on at the monastery. The way you moved—it was sloppy, but it was still bold. I hope I didn't hurt you."

Riki shook her head. "I'm fine—where'd you learn how to fight and throw knives the way you did?"

Sakuya shrugged. "Doesn't matter. I'm more worried about starting over and catching up with each other." Something hardened in her eyes, as if that warm blue fire was dying. "We have so much to talk about."

For the first time since Sakuya appeared, Audriane concurred with a nod. "Yes. _Much_."

She tried to take back the bucket, but Sakuya offered to hold it, leaning awkwardly but confidently to the side as she held it with one arm. All the while it was hard for both girls to not be intimidated by her muscles shining in the sunlight. She stood between them as they slowly walked back toward Etxarren, at a pace that showed they didn't want to go back.

Sakuya nodded her head toward Etxarren. "Shall we?"

"I dunno," hesitated Riki. "Mireille and Kirika could kill you on sight."

"I never fought back," blurted Sakuya determinedly. "When they fired at me, I ran . . . because I finally realized who you were."

Riki shot an "I told you so" glance at Audriane, who stared back with uncertainty. Her hazel eyes glued to Sakuya as she spoke, with confusion, mistrust, and curiosity.

"Well, you have a lot to explain," said Riki. "We'll hear it when we meet up with Mireille and Kirika—."

BANG!

On instinct, the trio ducked, knees buckled; Riki and Audriane rolled out of the way; like usual, their hearts hammered in their chests. Still weren't used to it.

Mireille walked out from behind trees, her gun parallel to her face.

"What's with everyone popping out of nowhere all of a sudden?" roared Riki. "_And_ you nearly shot us!"

"It wasn't you I was aiming for," said Mireille, her gun at Sakuya.

"It's not reassuring when the mentors training you to aim better nearly shoot you!"

"It's not so reassuring either when our trainees are talking to the enemy."

Riki exchanged a look with Sakuya, who she realized, for some funny reason, was still holding the bucket during an attack. But when Riki heard the trickling of water, she saw the bullet hole in the bucket as Sakuya lifted and observed it.

"How do you know I'm the enemy?" countered Sakuya, raising an eyebrow, neither serious nor smirking.

"Cuz you shot your knives at my students," said Mireille.

"_You_ shot at me."

Mireille narrowed her eyes at Riki. "Does _everyone_ like to argue with me?"

Riki grinned. "Why you looking at _me_?"

"Where's Kirika?" blurted Audriane.

"Oh, I'm ok, thank you," joked Mireille. She sighed, yet kept her aim locked on Sakuya, and glanced over at a tree across the path from her.

Kirika popped out, upside-down from a branch, having been hidden by its thick leaves. One hand pointed a gun at Sakuya, the other held a familiar knife. She was turning it all over.

"Exceptional aim—and fast. I almost didn't see it coming," said Kirika, in a pitch different from that monotonous tone of hers.

Riki turned to Sakuya. "Did you just throw that?"

"They attacked first!" said Sakuya defensively.

Something chilled Riki. She had fought Sakuya face-to-face and got injured so this shouldn't have surprised her. But seeing her speed and accuracy—well, _not_ seeing it—was alarming. After casually bumping into Sakuya like a day at the park, then seeing that Sakuya could have killed Kirika, shifted things in Riki. Seriously, that was _Kirika_ that almost died!

What has Sakuya been through? If she had disappeared from the school the same time they did, she must have gone through the same amount of training at similar pace like them—right? But what made her different, the Third Sapling? Wait, _was_ she the Third Sapling?

Indeed, they had a lot to discuss. It could change everything they thought they knew about Noir, even from Mireille and Kirika's point of view.

Once Kirika landed on the ground and joined Mireille's side, the two walked toward Sakuya with their guns aimed.

"Let's introduce ourselves," said Mireille.

…

"So you're the Sakuya we heard of?" asked Mireille, crossing her legs at the dining table.

"Heard of?" chimed Sakuya, looking at Riki.

Riki shifted in her seat. "Well, you were technically the last person I saw before that horrible massacre! The first to pop up in my mind!"

Sakuya couldn't resist the smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "_Awee_, and we barely knew each other!" she said, hand over her heart.

It bothered Noir how relaxed she was in Etxarren, even with their guns pointed at her—Mireille's under the table, Kirika from by the doorway.

"Ya know," said Sakuya, frowning, "those guns have been pointed at me since we laid eyes on each other. You're making me nervous."

That last statement pissed Mireille off. "Whatever," she muttered. "Tell us everything you know about the Soldats. What happened to you before, during, and after. Why you're so damn good, this fast, already? Nothing makes sense."

Riki and Audriane leaned in with anticipation, their chests and arms pressing into the edge of the table.

"It's a painful, long story," murmured Sakuya, barely audible.

"I doubt it," said Mireille, her voice flat, but everyone could see the emotion in her eyes.

"As you all know," said Sakuya, exhaling. "The massacre. Everyone in the cafeteria had heard the first gunshot, but no one knew how to react. Few jumped up, others were confused. It's funny how you hear it all the time on TV, but you still don't know it when you're actually experiencing it. After a few gunshots, I felt this hard _punch_, not pain. Then, this burning sensation, like hot sulfur—followed by severe numbness. I remember thinking, _I . . . I got shot!_ I remember falling and landing on something soft. It took me some time to realize I had landed on bodies, on my friends . . ." She paused to collect herself, as if any moment she'd start hyperventilating. "It was so hard to breathe. I was focused on nothing else _but_ that . . ." She clamped her jaw shut, as if remembering something horrendous. "My vision was fuzzy by then, but I saw someone aiming their gun at me. I heard the click. All I could think was, 'Breathe! Breathe', even with that gun pointed at my face. I gasped faster and faster. _Trying_ to get my lungs to fill with air . . ."

"Who was it that spared you?" asked Mireille.

Riki hissed at her. "She's obviously going through something, don't be insensitive!"

"Can't say," answered Sakuya. "They took me away and had me hospitalized by some private doctor."

"Where?" asked Mireille.

Riki threw another glare. _"Hey."_

"I don't know," said Sakuya. "I mean, let's be honest, do you worry about that when drifting in and out of consciousness? I'd been _shot_."

Riki gaped, as if searching for a wound, but she didn't want to be rude or mistaken for perverseness.

"Looks like you recovered fast. How unique," said Mireille.

"The Soldats have the best doctors," said Sakuya.

"You don't specifically remember who was standing over you?" pressed Mireille.

"The ones who took me away? Men in black."

"Of course. Soldats, they're all the same." Mireille paused, watching Sakuya's face. "But something's not right here. You're giving us answers awfully fast. Easy-breezy, just like that?"

"I'll answer fair questions, _fairly_," said Sakuya carefully.

Riki watched the whole interrogation intensely, especially Sakuya, with wide eyes.

"Then answer this," said Mireille. "Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why answer everything? That's not . . . Soldatsy."

"Because . . . I was ordered to."

Mireille feigned a smile and cheery tone. "_That's_ the Soldats I know."

"So," said Kirika, switching legs to lean on against the door, "you _are_ the Third Sapling?"

Sakuya made a face. "I think so."

"Oh please—what the hell does that mean?" said Mireille.

"Well . . . I was told I wasn't supposed to be. I've always asked why, but no one will tell me."

"Who, another faction?"

Sakuya's expression became reluctant. "That was another order. I cannot tell you _that_ answer."

After fidgeting in her seat wondering where Sakuya stood in all of this, Riki pushed away from the table and stood up. "Do your superiors even know you're here?"

"Sort of," replied Sakuya.

"You came on your own accordance?" asked Kirika.

"For the most part."

"So why are you here?" asked Mireille.

Sakuya looked at Riki. "I wanted to apologize to Riki. I thought I seriously injured her after realizing it was her."

"Why didn't you do that the day you attacked them?" grumbled Mireille, eyebrow raised.

"Yeah, why?" burst Riki, face red.

"Uh, because I didn't want to get shot—I don't plan on _that_ ever again," snorted Sakuya. But what started as sarcasm became a fit of giggles.

"You're definitely not your typical student," said Mireille, with disdain. She looked at Riki and Audriane. "These other two, on the other hand, were very scared that day, and have been ever since. Naturally. But you. You are definitely the Third Sapling, the way you smile."

Sakuya glowered. "You don't know what I've been through."

Mireille finally withdrew her gun from under the table, but sat it on the table in front of her as if casually holding a fork, pointed at Sakuya. "You're not eerie like most Thirds, but I'm still gonna be cautious around you. These are my students, I don't trust their safety with you."

Sakuya folded her arms. "Don't like Thirds, huh?"

Mireille said nothing.

Kirika lowered her gun, however. "So, what now?"

"Good question," grumbled Audriane. "Can we get back to training?"

"You should," said Sakuya stringently. "We have a lot ahead of us."

"Thirds—so knowing, yet so secretive," muttered Mireille.

"Well, _everyone_ knows about the Trials," said Sakuya, flashing her a look. "Everyone who knows about Noir and the Soldats, that is."

The Third Sapling finally stood up, ignoring the two guns trained on her. She walked to the door, smiling her gratitude to Kirika. "Thanks for the hospitality," she said.

Kirika smiled back. It was small, but it was warming. It definitely earned a scowl from Mireille.

"You're gonna leave, just like that?" said Riki, slowly following Sakuya. "You should stay. I mean, it's a . . . high school reunion." She laughed dryly at herself. "Not the kind I imagined, but . . . I'm glad you're ok. We're all glad you're ok."

Everyone else looked at each other, but nodded respectively. Sakuya returned Riki's lingering eyes with a wide smile. "You too, Riki." She hesitated, before adding, "Let me know if you need help in training."

"Sorry, but that's _my_ money," said Mireille jokingly. She grinned wide, as if the Third's departure was the only time she'd show happiness. "Your job is to let these two win the Trials."

"Sorry, but that's _my_ life," said Sakuya, returning the smile.

Riki gawked. "So you know about what the Trials are gonna do to us? And that doesn't _bother_ you?"

This was where Audriane tried to read where Sakuya stood in all of this. She glared at Sakuya, as if expecting a negative answer that would reinforce her suspicions.

Instead of answering, Sakuya stared at Riki almost reluctantly.

"Really? You're in this, too?" whispered Riki. "Please no. This isn't our place, among adults' bullshit games."

"We're not children anymore," said Sakuya.

"I don't understand," said Audriane, glaring at Sakuya. "You didn't know it was us you were targeting. But you know about the Trials. So why is it that you sound like you're not backing down?"

Sakuya frowned, almost in shame. "I . . . I dunno. People do crazy things when they're scared. When they have nothing else . . ."

"They didn't tell you, did they?" said Riki. "Whoever ordered you to attack us. They didn't explain your mission, right? What was it exactly they said?"

"I can't say."

"Forget it, kid," said Mireille. "She belongs to the Soldats, now."

"Shut up!" snapped Riki, not even looking at Mireille. "You of all people have no place in this conversation—!"

"Yes, we do," whispered Kirika. That small voice always found its way in all their noise. "Riki, we understand your pain. But the Third is something else."

Riki paid Kirika little mind, her eyes still lost in Sakuya's. "You haven't lost everything," she told her.

"They killed my family," blurted Sakuya.

Silence.

"I saw it on the news. My father, running for mayor, his death was broadcasted. My mother's, in our Washington house, from a 'home invasion'. Their bodies were identified, our relatives declared _me_ 'missing'. Our school security didn't catch any footage of the men taking me away—."

"Bet the Soldats did that—," interrupted Mireille.

"At least both your families are alive. I checked," said Sakuya. The sudden news was overwhelming for Riki and Audriane, whose eyes shined at the mention of their families.

"How did you gain access to all of that information about their families?" asked Kirika.

Pause. "The Soldats told me," said Sakuya.

No one knew what to say that, as if "Soldats" was the same answer expected in every dialogue.

Mireille and Kirika didn't believe much what the Soldats did, but their guts did tell them that it was probably true about the children's families. Didn't mean they'd be safe for long, however. The Soldats were probably keeping an eye on the families, in case Riki and Audriane or Noir did anything they didn't like . . .

"The ones taking care of me aren't bad people," murmured Sakuya.

"What was that?" asked Mireille, glaring. When Sakuya repeated herself, Mireille waved her gun at her. "Get out. This is your last chance before the force of our bullets kick you out that door."

Sakuya turned to leave. But before she walked away, she said over her shoulders, "But the faction that you should be worried about . . . they have plans for you, you should know. I'm not supposed to tell you that, but . . . someone's after you."


	16. Chapter 16: Preparations

Chapter 16

Preparations

"So we know so far that there are three factions out there," said Mireille. "Sir Asher's, the one providing for us but also beating us in the dirt mockingly like a horse for the big race . . ."

"Then there's Sakuya's faction," added Kirika. "They don't like what Asher has done with 'the new Noir', so they got to Sakuya before we could, just to play her against us. It jeopardizes our chances of getting out of this devil's contract."

Mireille sighed. "And then there's the third faction Sakuya supposedly warned us about. It could be the ones from the school. We need to find out everything we can about them. If what she said is true—which is hard for me to decide on—then for now, we've definitely need to worry about them."

"Are they the men that followed us to Europe?" asked Audriane.

"Huh?" asked Mireille.

"After . . . school, we were followed all the way to here." Audriane stared. "_Did_ you know whose men they were?"

Mireille was devoid of expression. "Doesn't matter. They're all the same to me, every last one of them."

Kirika gave a thoughtful nod to both girls' statements. "She's right, though, Mireille. Let's just say those men following us to Europe were never Asher's. Maybe it's not smart to dismiss them so easily, as if they're all one entity—we need to pay attention to detail. Who followed us, who talked to us, who we killed, who is on whose side. We need to differentiate one faction from another."

"Do you know anything about anyone from those different factions?" asked Riki.

"Right," agreed Audriane, "we know nothing about our enemy. We don't know where they come from!"

Kirika nodded. "In order to do so, we need to research. We need access to all kinds of information. We need internet."

Hearing that word seemed to make it even more fairytale and nonexistent than it already was. A reminder that there was a world beside this one; as this sunk in, Audriane looked at her surroundings, at the interior of the Etxarren.

Her eyes lit. "Assassins cannot do their jobs without some form of communication, right? They need email and phone calls and associates—messengers—to know what and who you're up against, to strategize, to prepare for!"

Riki caught on. "I think you're onto something, there. Ha. I knew a fashion Barbie like _this_ one couldn't last a day out here without some connection to the modern world." She jeered at Mireille at that last statement. "So is that why you lied to us about being so far from civilization?"

"We never actually said anything like that," retorted Mireille. "I dunno where the hell you thought that one up."

"Ok, well, that's not the point," growled Riki. "Point is, we're useless and defenseless out here without any access to internet, without _information_. We gotta go to Laguardia, find a damn library, look up more training tips, then dig up files on what factions exist out there. If you have any contacts, _any_, who may know a smidge about the Soldats, call them."

Mireille blinked. "Wow. The one who talks is actually talking sense."

"So," pondered Audriane, "all this time, we weren't kept in the Etxarren just for isolation and safe training—."

"'Safe', ha—!" blurted Riki.

"But to also keep _all_ of us from going anywhere, from technology," said Kirika, frowning to the realization.

Audriane nodded firmly in understanding. "Yes. You and Mireille prisoners, like us. The Soldats not want you to have access to technology in case you betrayed them, so they kept you here with us. That why Shirihime brought her doctors and ammunition with her to us? So we did not feel the need to go anywhere?"

Mireille closed her eyes, growling, "It appears so."

"Huh, and you made it sound like they were doing it out of the goodness of their hearts," laughed Riki.

"At least now we have _some_ seed of a plan," said Kirika.

"I hate to say this," said Mireille, "but without permission from our divine Sir Asher, we cannot go anywhere. Not with his men watching our every moves. Not until he assigns us our first mission."

"And that's not till he thinks we're ready?" said Audriane.

Riki's face tensed with ambition. "So we train and take on another 'trial' or 'mission'. You said so yourselves that Noir once served the people, protected the innocent. And where are there _people_? In Laguardia. He'll definitely assign us to go there."

Kirika held her chin thoughtfully. "It's a lot to cover: training, researching, eliminating eavesdroppers, and of course the other two factions. We're going to have to juggle each—."

There was a frustrated roar as Audriane threw her arms up. "Let's just get started, ok! No planning, no thinking! Stop talking—and start training us! NOW!"

Before Riki realized it, she was pounding her fist into her palm, grinning. "Now _there's_ something we can agree on! The Soldats want their Noir?" Riki was shaking so violently, no one could tell if she was angry or just excited. "They want our body and soul? I'll give them my _fist_—and the soul of a demon they've never dreamt of breeding."

There was a warm, slightly high-pitched sound. Everyone turned to Mireille bubbling with laughter, leaning against the dining room wall.

"I'm sorry, I needed that," she said, fanning herself, smiling, wiping tears from her eyes. "I'm sorry, it's . . . it's just good to see so much hatred. Now I understand what they meant by 'only hatred can save'." She snorted to herself.

Kirika's expression sank. "That's not funny, Mireille, and you know that."

Mireille shook her head, her smile fading but no less weak. "I know, Kirika. I'm just saying, it's good to see some spirit around here."

Riki made a flat face. "You're one to talk."

Audriane snorted; Kirika smirked, which earned her a teasing from Mireille.

Mireille looked at Riki victoriously, as if she'd already finished her training. "Hold on to that enthusiasm to push forward. One day it'll help you aim well. Who knows, maybe one day, you'll get to shoot me, like you've always dreamed of."

"Now don't go begging there just yet," said Riki playfully. "That day, I'll be so good, I won't need you—the same punching bag—to beat anymore. I'll have other things to punch the living crap outta."

Kirika and Audriane had expected murder to follow, but Mireille shooed it off by waving the teenagers off. "Go play like good little children. Handstands and guns 'n all."

….

"I daresay, I am quite impressed with their bravery," said Asher, drinking a glass of Rioja wine. "They went through hell—now they just need to go to hell _and_ back. With these Trials coming up, it will make them Noir. Once they learn how to fight. _Properly_."

"They _are_ showing progress," said Shirihime. "I've been going back and forth delivering their ammo, along with Stefan, watching them shoot and fight. They're even learning how to fire mounted on a horse."

"That _is_ impressive for girls their age and inexperience."

"It's been quite nice of you to give them breathing room, for them to recover."

"Well, I'll admit, we gave them hellfire for the first few weeks. I can't have them dying on us _that_ soon."

"You were right about some things, my Lord," said Shirihime. "They have proven to be quite an interesting factor in the Trials. Yumura and Bouquet have grown up all their lives knowing about Noir and Soldats—but these two . . . they were once familiar with one world, only to discover that they lived in a different one. I would like to believe they never belonged out there . . ."

"They _needed_ us, to show them who they really are. We've watched them being one person, then becoming someone different. It is . . . _so_ rewarding, and fills my heart with joy to watch them grow. It's like watching my own children."

"One day they'll be grateful, Sir, whether they will come to admit it or not."

"Huh. The fate of Noir, the identity, the power—no one can resist it. Even those who fear it. Like this one."

They turned their attention back to their guest, a man whimpering in the corner of the wine cellar. One of the wine barrels were knocked over, the blood-like liquid mixing with the guest's blood—from the struggle moments ago, when he tried to ambush them out of the same wine barrel they were drinking samples from.

One of their Knights shook the blood off the knuckles of his latex gloves, awaiting further orders.

"Wine, sir? It's Rioja, the best in this region," offered Shirihime, kneeling in front of the man, his face pink and bruised, mottled like swelling sausage. He said nothing; Shirihime frowned. "Your faction knows about Noir. You know about Noir. You know the risks in _knowing_ about Noir—and yet you refuse to talk. We'd hate for the tourists to find you down here. So, you could tell us who sent those men at the school. What do they want with Noir?"

From the corner of his mouth, he drooled ribbons of blood. He slumped his head against the stone wall, wheezing and gasping. Hands and wrists contorted in different directions, back arched.

"Stop disabling him in the jaw and maybe he won't moan like a zombie," said Stefan, standing in the doorway.

"Well. Fix him, so he starts singing again," ordered Shirihime coolly.

"It'll take a while. Maybe simmer down on the torture?" said Stefan, smiling solemnly.

"He nearly killed our Lord. I protect my own." Shirihime turned to face their guest. "You don't know how much my Lord means to me. No, of course you don't. You don't even know the meaning of loyalty, of love."

She gestured to one of their Knights, who came over holding a pear-shaped metal contraption.

"Yes, let's test you on your loyalty. You seem to favor your words, or your lack of—and your jaw." Shirihime had the Knight show their prisoner the device. "It seems fitting we're in a Medieval setting. See here, this is called 'the Pear of Anguish'. Back then, it tortured women accused of self-abortions, and homosexuals and blasphemers, and liars. Be grateful it doesn't apply to other . . . certain body parts—that you're just a mere liar. Liars will be punished accordingly . . ."

The Knight unscrewed the jagged star-shaped handle—and four metal petals bloomed like a flower. She assumed that if her guest's eyes weren't so battered, they would have widened at the sight. Yet, he whimpered, and seemed to understand what he was seeing.

"It's ok, it's not fatal, but it _will_ tear your jaw muscles," she admonished. "Now, this is Noir's first time to Laguardia, a rare gem in the Basque Country. I want it to be an unforgettable experience for them, so I can't have so much blood on these floors that it'll be hard to scrub.

"So first thing's first," she added, accepting a pistol from the Knight. "Tell us who we're up against. I know they already have someone here, somewhere. Either it's the spy that's been spilling our location and Noir's, or someone else who just arrived. Who is it? I won't have them—." Shirihime suddenly shot him in the kneecap. "—Inflicting any damage—." His shrieks seeming to scratch the very air and stone corridors, like nails on a chalkboard. "—On our Trials." She pressed her finger into the bullet wound in his knee.

"We need him to _talk_, remember?" said Asher. He turned to exit. "Update me when you're done, I need to visit some friends. And Stefan, make sure he stays alive. Enough, at least."

"Yes, Sir Asher," said the doctor, flinching. He ordered one of the two Knights, "Escort him back home."

After lord and servant left, Stefan looked back at the woman. "Not too harsh. Make it quick. We can't afford anyone hearing him, here." Stefan paused, then asked, "Is there a reason you're not the one holding that instrument? Is it because of the power—because you can simply order someone else to do it? Or is it because you don't want to do it yourself?"

"Let someone else do your dirty work," she said. "But in all seriousness, it's not like I enjoy it. You know as much as I do that we do what we must in this world—in THIS world."

"Well . . . you don't expect me to watch, do you?" asked Stefan, frowning. "I already have to see him when you finish."

"You're dismissed. I'd rather you check on Noir to make sure they have no _unnecessary_ injuries that will interfere with the Trials."

Stefan nodded, and left.

Shirihime looked back at her prisoner. "I hate this, I really do," she whispered. "But you're human, right? You have a person you love, that you'd do anything for. You'd protect your own. Leaving out politics and Soldat notions—you have _someone_, right? So you understand why I am doing this."

He gurgled, the sound of choking water. "You . . . are no Soldat . . .!"

"Do not worry about what I am or who I am. Or about your life. I have use for you. You're gonna help with the preparations."

She nodded to the Knight.


	17. Chapter 17: Stone

Chapter 17

Stone

Sakuya had just read on the library computers about the deaths of her parents. The school massacre. The aftermath. It was too much. Even though that had happened weeks ago, even though the Soldats had told her her family was dead—all the memories suddenly came back. Fast like death, but cutting slow and deep, like a knife. She had cried enough, and couldn't afford to cry anymore.

As she headed toward the exit, she pulled her turtleneck up. Just as she was about to walk outside, someone called to her.

_"Arreba, arreba!" _

She turned around, a bright orange flash coming toward her. She lifted her arms, ready for the blow.

But it was two little girls; they slowed down to make sure to be gentle, and fitted right into her arms. All instinct to retaliate with a knife was gone. Thank god.

Sakuya threw on a smile. "Reading books again? Where's your mother?"

But of course the twins couldn't understand her. They never had, ever since she woke up in their house, with them peering down at her for the first time. Back on that night, a night after a series of heinous nights. Days and nights of surviving her own set of the Trials.

"C'mon, let's go find your mother. _Tu madre_," she said in the limited Spanish she remembered from high school. She gently steered them into the direction of their cottage on the outskirts of the walls.

But as she walked them along, she felt Lore's puny hand slip into hers; how small and fragile; Arrosa grabbed her hand other hand. They weren't expressive children, but whenever they looked up to her expectantly with piercing beady eyes, it said a lot, and yet she didn't know why.

The three of them walked through Mayor Plaza, the town center with its imperial coats of arms from Charles the Fifth's reign. They passed a row of archways to a long, flat building, with various European flags flapping across its front. Tourists were scanty, but those that were there on the street were whispering in excitement. Couples, families, friends . . . not many of them by themselves in this world. Pointing, gawking, admiring the different yellows, grays, and browns of the stone town, especially its famous wine restaurants.

Two tourists, a blonde and her tan Asian friend, turned around and saw Sakuya and the girls. The blonde came over and lifted up her camera as if to say something, her eyes lighting up to the children.

"May we?" asked the tourist. American.

The twins weren't too shy, smiling, as if that was the one strict thing their mother taught them to do in the presence of others. But they stayed by Sakuya's side as the tourist leaned in with her camera.

Sakuya looked down at the twins uncertainly. "Um . . ."

"Oh, sorry! We're traveling and trying to update our blogs to our followers on a daily basis, about the places and people we see—your children were so adorable, I just _had_ to—um, do you speak English?"

"Yeah," said Sakuya.

"Oh good, I didn't know where you were from. Sorry for the stalking with the camera—oh, may I ask where?"

"Hm?"

"Where do you live? Your ethnicity? American? Asian? Spanish? I can't tell." The tourist panicked. "Oh, do you live here? I'm sorry for assuming—!"

Sakuya budged a smile. "I'm half-American, half-Japanese. A bit of Spanish," she said. "My father . . . lived in Tokyo . . . my mother in Washington."

"Wow! Well, you're _very_ pretty!" exclaimed the woman as politely as she could. She aimed her camera at Lore and Arrosa. "Is it ok?"

Sakuya looked down at the twins, who looked up at her without any reaction. Just when she thought they didn't understand, they looked back at the tourist and smiled timidly, twisting their torsos, looking away or sometimes curiously at the camera and the tourists. After the woman finished, she waved her gratitude and returned to her friend. They walked off, staying close to the right side of the skinny street, browsing for wine bars.

How nice to speak with her familiar language. Ever since getting familiar with these streets, Sakuya had run into plenty of tourists attracted to the military history and wine sampling of the town of Laguardia. Many tourists were mostly American, but the occasional group of Japanese or Chinese friends came along, and she found comfort in both.

She didn't exactly mind not being able to speak fluent Spanish, especially with Lore and Arrosa, but then again, wish she could. They weren't always easy to boss around when she felt they were wandering too far. She definitely remembered her familial terms and Spanish commands from high school, like "para!" or "mira!" or "eschucame!" or "camina!" It was enough to keep them by her side whenever they wandered into shops, off-site cemeteries, alleys, or staircases. Of course, _those_ had to be their favorite spots.

But Laguardia was a small town with high walls and narrow streets. It was grand enough to be exciting, but small enough to know where places were, who people were, where they lived.

And for the Trials.

"You're lucky this place isn't big," said Sakuya, even though the twins couldn't understand her. "C'mon, let's not worry your mother. _Casa_."

The children never complained or ignored her. They'd balance across stone curbs against Laguardia's dying yellow-ochre walls, or play tag behind bike racks; they'd touch the bouquet stands or pottery set up along the streets, or get distracted by window displays or the common sight of wine barrels outside of restaurants and stores, which probably reminded them of their stone house. But they always caught up with Sakuya.

The three of them ambled down a slight hill. After passing under a building through an arched tunnel, Sakuya looked up to the surrounding close-knit buildings. A looming maze of stone and history, with cobblestone streets narrow like alleys—that not a single car was allowed to drive through the walled-in town. Windows, with small ebony railings and shelves drooping with vegetation, all over every building from head to toe, so close to each other, that neighbors could open their windows and easily hear each other in conversational volume from across the street.

She looked down at the gray cobblestone, which was flatter here than other lumpier streets in the walled-in town. Such artwork. Ancient, since the thirteenth century. A survivor. Just like Sakuya. Stone. Just like Sakuya. She needed to be stone.

But before they could continue back home, Arrosa tapped Sakuya's arm and pointed up, blurting in Spanish. Most times, she spoke and understood a good amount Spanish, yet Sakuya has heard her speak in an unknown language.

Regardless, this time, Sakuya knew she was talking about: the town hall.

Its pendulum clock struck noon. Three festive figurines popped out, flouncing and dancing, jerking in place. Two were men, one in a red hat and white traditional garments, the other in his night cap and pajamas; the third figure, a woman in a frilly, yet simple dress. The clockwork was black and intricate with grape vines, stars, and circus-like figurines in the backdrop.

The children's favorite thing to see whenever in town.

The clock reminded Sakuya of three Three Saplings. Or how the streets were a great way for Noir to navigate—or get trapped and chased, as desired. How the straight-forward streets and alleys, countless archways and gardens, would provide shelter or ambushes. The dimly light underground wine cellars, perfect for surprises, challenges in the dark. The connected rooftops of Laguardia would become their stairs; the unstable, unpredictable roof shingles would provide advantage _and_ disadvantages for both Noir and the Knights of the Soldats. Any of these features could save or kill a person . . .

_Not now._ Sakuya wanted to focus on the girls.

She quizzed them to read what time the clock said, and they answered in tiny, but vigorous voices. The silliness of it distracted her from the Trials.

_"Camina,"_ hastened Sakuya, twisting and winding through networks of streets. You could never walk a whole street without another building at the end of it; you were delightfully trapped. It had taken her a week or so to memorize where to go.

They finally turned into a private driveway between two buildings, passing some fattened bushes and a faded green statue of a young girl, her head in a bandana, tilted to the side, holding a vase. On their right, doors and small windows sloped with their ascent toward one of the gates leading outside the walls.

"Lore, Arrosa, _aqui_!" ordered Sakuya.

The twins tittered and galloped at random beats in front of her, but they stayed close. They led the shortcut to one of Laguardia's five gates, which were two meters high, thick and topped by battlemented parapet that people once were able to walk around.

This gate had two walls slanted toward them, with heavily ornamented doors opened. A shelf was carved into the parapet, with a decorated Virgin Mary inside. Like many times before, going in and out of Laguardia, the twins prayed to the Mary statue. They said what Sakuya assumed was "the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, Amen", the way they touched their forehead, chest, and shoulders.

They passed through the gate. It was nothing but open space out here—fields, vineyards, strips of trees, veins of dirt roads here and there. Farm cottages dotted the land surrounding the town on the hill. But the girls' house was behind Laguardia, pressed against the Cantabrians. It was a shorter distance than to anyone else's cottages, a ten-minute trek up the mountainside.

"I can't believe your parents let you roam to and fro," whispered Sakuya, as she watched the brave seven-year-olds hop from rock to rock along the way, ranting to each other in their language.

"_Etxea, etxea!"_ shouted Arrosa, pointing ahead.

There was no mistaking the meaning of that word after hearing it every day since the family took Sakuya in.

Home.

A doddering stone house. Wide and massive, with a muddy color to it, accompanied by green door-sized windows and traditionally smaller ones at the top, more like peeping holes. Half of the front was white, the other half bit peeled off, revealing an orange-yellowish hue. The lower half was nothing but rows of perfectly fitted stone. There was a single tiny hole, of what would be called a window, on either side of the front door in the middle.

_Etxea_.

Her only home since the school massacre.

_"Etxea!"_ repeated Arrosa, skipping and humming a tuneless sound. Her sister straggled, plucking flowers lining the side of the road, wiping the dirt off her jeans. She tucked the flowers into her breastpocket, as if to match the simple designs on her orange blouse. Sakuya never had siblings, yet was content with just this—

She saw movement in the windows. She squinted. Froze. A sniper.

Then, the familiar click of a gun. She stopped in her tracks, and looked sideways. Behind one of the boulders, just to her right, was a man in black.

"Just stand there, and you won't alarm your little ones," he said.

Sakuya looked back at the oblivious children ahead of her. She glared at the sniper in the window. Dread sank in her veins, her heart: were their parents alive?

The man in the black suit kept his gun on her. He touched his ear, cheek pressed against his shoulder, and spoke into it. "Not yet," he commanded.

The sniper withdrew his gun, but only slightly.

"You won't shoot me," said Sakuya.

"Not if we have to. Orders—."

"_No_, because I'm Noir."

He chuckled. "You're confident like Noir, I'll give you that."

"I'm going to assume you're from that other faction."

"Just please cooperate, and your little ones won't even know what's going on."

"Let's keep it that way," said Sakuya, glaring. "You can remove your sniper, now. Where are the parents?"

"They're inside. One wrong move, and my men will kill them."

"Well, what do you want?"

"You're coming with us. You were supposed to be with us in the first place. Please. No one needs to get hurt."

"Oh really."

He cautiously stepped toward her, then, stood next to her, casually, gun pressed into her back. "Keep going. We'll negotiate inside."

"Just _take_ me already. The family has nothing to do with this."

"It's not you we're negotiating with. It's the man inside."

"Their father?"

"Shuddap, and just walk—."

_"Arreba!"_

The children had turned around to make sure she was still with them. When they saw the Knight next to her, they froze. Sakuya's heart galloped. She forced a smile and waved at them, shouting, _"Un amigo!"_ They looked at him strangely, as children most often do near strangers, but continued to walk. Sakuya and the Knight walked side by side like friends, and followed them the inside Extea.

_"Amak, Aita!"_ chorused the children.

They ran into the kitchen, right into their mother's arms. Guarded by two Knights, who leaned against the kitchen sink. When Sakuya and her captor walked in, she exchanged a worried glance with the mother.

_I'm sorry, Elixabete._

Elixabete stared back, shaking with what could have been fear and rage altogether. She squeezed tight onto her children, didn't want to let them go. However, the Knights told her to tell her daughters to play in the backyard.

When Sakuya was ordered to stand by the small kitchen table, she noticed the father Xabier sitting there. And next to him, a friend of his. He was a bearded man that visited the family on a daily basis. She was never around the Etxea too much to care about him, since he always seemed to be done talking with Xabier whenever she walked in.

He seemed calm—despite the fact that the two Knights sitting across from him and Xabier had guns hidden under the table, pointed at them. This enraged Sakuya. She felt dazed, her heart a beast in her chest, her vision going fuzzy and black. She had felt this before. Couldn't afford emotions to take over logic . . .

Finally, Sakuya's captor, obviously the leader, spoke. But not in Spanish or English. Not even French. Back and forth with Xabier and his friend. It started off calm, but gradually rose to something else. They were now arguing. And it wasn't just Xabier talking—in fact, it was mostly his friend who did most of the talking. He seemed calm, Xabier not. It only made sense that the calmer person should handle the situation. Sakuya really regretted not getting to know him, for she appreciated his bravery. If she could, she'd find a chance to talk with him about an escape plan, but then realized she didn't know their language.

After a good five minutes, the head Knight looked to Sakuya. "You're with us. Negotiation's over."

Sakuya stared back at Xabier and Elixabete. The woman was whimpering into her hands, tear-eyed the whole time. Her husband exchanged a nervous glance with his friend with the calm demeanor.

"Say your good-byes," said the lead Knight.

Sakuya couldn't tell whether to feel betrayed or heartfelt at the separation. Xabier looked her hard in the eye one last time, before bowing his head and staring at his folded hands on the table. Elixabete choked in a sob, but her eyes followed Sakuya devotedly as she left through the back door.

_"Arreba!"_ It was Arrosa, who was sitting on top of a smaller house molded into the backside of the Etxea. She and her sister always secretly climbed up that little storage house behind their parents' back, a secret Sakuya cherished.

Lore, on the ground, was the first to run down the slope from the storage house to the backdoor Sakuya came through. She gave Sakuya the pinkish-white flower from her breastpocket, ignoring the Knight.

Sakuya placed her hand on Lore's head. "I have to go, now," she said, smiling weakly.

Lore beamed, not understanding. But when Sakuya walked up the mountainside, the little girl understood. She ran to catch up with them, speaking in Spanish mixed with that unknown language. Either way, she realized Sakuya couldn't understand, and spoke more hastily, confused.

From the storage house, Arrosa called after Sakuya. She ran to the wall that joined the two buildings together, and climbed down the corner on a trail of jutting bricks and stone.

"Better tell your friends off," said the Knight. "Before I do."

Sakuya was this close to knocking backwards into him, but she contained herself. She called over her shoulders, _"Adios! Hasta manana!"_ For some weird reason, she felt pathetic, not just over her minimal bilingual skills, but just total shame in herself overall.

Her captor flinched. "Man, your Spanish . . .!"

Instead of being offended, it only spiked her curiosity. "What language was that you were speaking?"

"What, you haven't figured it out already—you were just in a _tourist_ attraction!"

"Was it Basque? They mostly spoke Spanish around me, but I've heard it every now and then. All the stores were in Spanish, but I'd see words on signs that were foreign to me."

"Yeah."

"Are _you_ Basque?"

"Yeah. I gots some in me."

"You'd aim a gun at your own people?"

He said nothing.

"Who _are_ the Basques?"

"Ancient. Don't worry, all will come together, in time."

"_Arreba?"_ The twins stood side by side, but hadn't moved from their spot. They still called after her, as if expecting her to run back to them on whim. Sakuya looked back at them, trying to find the strength to smile. She waved, and her heart shattered. She was always strong, but not like this.

"You did the right thing," said the Knight, poking her with his pistol to continue upward. "Now, into the woods, you go."

"Where we going?"

"Miles away from here, I promise you that."

So Sakuya waited.


	18. Chapter 18: Conflicted

Chapter 18

Conflicted

"I can't believe it, how far you've improved," said Kirika. "You can now do a front-flip, and fire a gun. Not bad. Not bad at all."

Riki and Audriane smiled at each other, wiping their guns. They were back on the little "porch" on the side of Etxarren, the board sticking out from the window, door, whatever it was. Kirika sat behind them in the plastic chair.

"I'm sure Shirihime would be so proud," chortled Riki.

Audriane huffed in agreement; both teenagers rolled their eyes. Not at each other, but with each other. That was definitely something, in Kirika's eyes.

"So, how would you two assess your teamwork?" asked Kirika.

"Uh," began Riki, raising an eyebrow at Kirika, who beamed. She then glanced at Audriane, who looked like she didn't want to disappoint the kind of smile they didn't see often from Kirika.

"I guess we're good," said Riki, shrugging, giving Audriane a crooked smile.

Her partner sighed dramatically. "At least sound like you're _not_ in pain when you say it like that."

Riki threw her hands up defensively. "What, did you want me to confess my love to you or something?"

Audriane said nothing, closing one eye as she aimed her gun toward the ground. For some reason, Riki felt offended by this, but said nothing. She knew neither of them had forgotten their first talk about Sakuya—whom they've only seen once in a while throughout their training. Sakuya would appear and offer tips in target practice, but their trainers, especially Audriane, rebuked her presence. This made Riki's time with her little and precious, not just because she taught her how to fare in combat, but because . . . well, she was the last genuine memory she could remember from high school, even though they'd been near-strangers. In some sad way, Riki felt closer to her than to Audriane, her own partner.

But Riki brushed it aside, basking in the reassurance of knowing she was able to protect herself from now on. Kirika's pat-on-the-back was confirmation of their skills, of their chance to survive.

Audriane fired a single shot at the ground. There was a yelp down below; the trio leaned over and saw that Mireille had been walking by with a bucket of carrots for the horse.

"Who in the . . .!" yelled Mireille.

Riki gasped, with smiling eyes, clapping Audriane on the back. "You did _not_ just do that, did ya?"

Audriane ducked her head between her shoulders like a scared turtle. "Sorry!"

"Hey you, you trigger-happy hot-shots up there, I coulda shot back!" shouted Mireille. "Don't you get boastful on the battlefield! I'd be damned if you died from cockiness."

"The only one dying from cockiness is that Shirihime woman at the cock of my gun," boomed Riki, twirling the gun by its trigger with her finger.

"Careful!" said Audriane, leaning away. "And don't hurt Shirihime. She's our source of ammunition, and supplies, and medicine—."

"No, _Stefan_ provides the medicine." Riki paused. "Haven't seen him in a while. He's a sight for sore eyes compared to that witch. Last time she was here, she shoved my face in the dirt in one of our spars. And she kept calling you 'Audriane Adrenaline'. And she just stands there and watches us train. Mumbles her dark things. It's creepy. It's annoying."

"Everything about her is annoying," said Mireille, who came back out of the barn. Riki snorted in agreement. "I can't believe we've let her live this long."

"Um, I think it's the other way around, Riki," said Kirika.

"Whatever. Her time will come, that's a promise."

"Speaking of which. Hey Kirika," said Audriane, looking to the Japanese admiring the lake. "When you think we'll be assigned our first mission? Do you think we are ready?"

"Um . . ." hesitated Kirika. "I'm not sure. You've become better marksmen, but . . . you still haven't gained a lot of _experience_. Putting yourselves to the real test, real fights."

"_Real_ fights? You're shitting me, right?" snarled Riki. "That's _all_ we've been doing even before we got here! They shoulda made us Noir from the get-go!"

"That'd be nice," said Mireille, who had leaned against the Etxarren below their window board. "We'd all be out of here."

"With that said," began Riki, "what's the plan? And how the hell do we get to Laguardia? The horse isn't enough for the four of us, even if two shared it at a time on our way there."

"You've been there half-way and back," said Mireille bluntly. "Lead the way."

Riki, sitting on the edge, leaned forward and dropped her head between her legs, glaring at Mireille on the ground. "Come up here and say that to my face! You know you're the reason why we had no choice and ran!"

Kirika snapped, "That's enough you two."

"You need to grow up," agreed Audriane, elbowing Riki, who almost fell off the board.

"Hey, careful, Dupont!"

"Riki, if they were really bad people, we'd be dead," said Audriane.

"Oh, what's a little bit of height?" taunted Mireille, stepping out from underneath the board. She looked up at the three of them. "Come down here, and show off some stunts you've learned."

"Don't beg," said Riki, grinning. "Don't make me move you up to the top of my hit list when I already have Shirihime and Asher and every single Soldat there, first."

"I mean it," hollered Mireille, spreading her arms. "Open fire."

Riki lay on her back, head nestled in her arms. "You're not worth soiling a bullet."

Audriane looked over her shoulders at Kirika. "They're a lot alike, aren't they?"

Kirika giggled ever so slightly. "Yeah, you're right. Really, I wouldn't worry about Mireille. She acts like this all the time. You should see back when I first met her."

"Really? Now this is a story I ought to hear," said Riki.

"Wait, what?" called Mireille.

Everyone ignored her, while Audriane asked, "How you guys meet anyway? I'm trying to imagine two assassins running into each other." She swung her legs back onto the board, crossed them, and leaned onto her cheeks like a child listening to bedtime story.

"She was harsh," whispered Kirika, enjoying the fact that Mireille couldn't hear them. "She didn't trust me. But we grew to understand each other. She's nice, she just doesn't know it yet."

"Is that so?" said Riki.

"She's a good person—even you know that, Riki."

Riki rolled her eyes. "Doesn't mean she doesn't piss me off."

Audriane slapped Riki's arm. "It's obvious that Kirika cares about Mireille. Don't insult her kindness by insulting Mireille."

For the first time, there was a change in Kirika's posture: the way she sat in her chair, the way she held her hands, the way her shoulders stiffened, the way she looked at Riki. When Riki saw this, she shut her mouth.

"She's a good person," repeated Kirika. "You don't know what she's been through."

"KIRIKA, I mean it, what are you telling them?" shouted Mireille.

Kirika crawled to the edge of the board. "Just telling them how awful you were to me back then!"

"Oh—_she_ can insult the blonde, not me?" huffed Riki.

Audriane glared. "_I'm_ blonde!"

"You are _so_ dirty-blonde!"

"What did she say about blondes?" yelled Mireille.

Riki rolled over like a log, till she was peeking over the edge. "We were just starting a club called Blondes Are Royal Douche Bags—I mean Dutchesses!"

There was a gunshot before she could finish. Riki yelped, rolling away from the edge, then instantly pulled out her gun and fired. This sent Audriane jolting, and Kirika pointing a gun at Riki.

"Hey you, you trigger-happy hot-shot down there, I coulda shot back!" roared Riki, lowering her gun.

"Ha," said Mireille, judging the bullet hole in the ground a yard away. "Still not fast enough. Nor accurate."

_"Mireille!"_ snapped Kirika, scowling her.

"Whaaaat?" said Mireille, folding her arms. "Come now, I wasn't even _moving_!"

Riki jumped off the board, down upon Mireille, feet-first—but the assassin slid out of the way, rolling. Riki did the same, opposite from her. When they both regained balance, they aimed their guns at each other.

"Nice," said Mireille, grinning. "Now, shoot."

"I would have back then," joked Riki, used to this kind of banter.

But Mireille wasn't bantering. She fired, walking toward Riki. The student, startled, covered her face as if that would protect her from bullets, cursing. "Shoot," repeated Mireille. Walking callously and leisurely. She fired again. Riki fired reflexively, but it missed Mireille.

"I thought we were just joking here!" said Riki over the gunfire.

"Riki, Mireille!" shouted Audriane. Next to her, Kirika was ready to move, but seemed frozen in place.

"Shoot!" roared Mireille. "I just reloaded—that was the one second of a _chance_ to shoot back!" Empty magazines fell to the ground. She fired again. All the while, Riki stumbled backwards, gun raised yet not at Mireille.

"You weren't afraid to aim a gun at me before!" said Mireille. Then, she was in front of Riki, point-blank, just like that. "Well, this is it. That's all to it. What do you do now, huh?"

Riki was bent over, grabbing her bleeding arm holding the gun. She glared at Mireille, yelling, "What the hell!"

"This is _it_, Riki," repeated Mireille. "So what do you do now?"

Riki was about to lurch forward, but Mireille was too fast and pressed the gun right between her eyes.

"First, you don't do _that_," lectured Mireille. "You raise your hands and surrender."

"That's it?" growled Riki.

"Live to see another day, yes." Mireille tightened her finger around the trigger. "But . . . there are those who could care less. They see you _inch_ a muscle, and they will shoot, before you can do anything. So what then?"

"You—."

"One . . ." counted Mireille.

"Wait . . ." said Riki, breaking into a sweat.

"Two . . ." said Mireille.

"She's not serious, right?" panicked Audriane. In that second, she and Kirika exchanged looks—then jumped off their board to stop Mirelle.

"Three—," began Mireille. But when she pulled the trigger, suddenly, her gun was thrust upward, and she felt something knock her in the knees. Her legs gave way underneath her—then, pain exploded in her jaw, followed by her chest slamming hard into the earth; the common rocky terrain didn't help.

"Mireille!" cried Kirika, rolling her onto her back.

Her partner lay there with her mouth open as if trying to get oxygen in. Finally, Mireille's chest shuddered, and she slowly exhaled. She sat up, rubbing her jaw.

"What did you just do?" she gasped, staring at Riki.

Instead, Sakuya stood between them.

"She's your student!" reprimanded the Third. Everyone couldn't tell who was angrier, her or Mireille.

"Exactly?" said Mireille, standing up, gun trained on Sakuya. "So what the hell you doing?"

"What I've been doing every time I come here—helping!" Sakuya pulled Riki up, whom she sort of knocked into—who then tried to charge into Mireille. Sakuya had to restrain her, which enraged the girl even more.

"You actually tried to shoot me!" roared Riki.

"You didn't get the _memo_?" shouted Mireille, tilting her gun sideways.

Sakuya restrained Riki, then, in fluid motion, was suddenly in Mireille's face, despite the gun in Mireille's hand. "That is _not_ how you teach!" she said through clenched teeth.

"Think you know better than everyone else, Third?" scoffed Mireille.

"Believe me, I _know_ things! And that was one of them!"

"You just gave me another reason to shoot you!" Mireille's gun flew up and pressed into the bottom of Sakuya's jaw.

"HEY!" roared Riki while she and Kirika tore them apart.

"What's your thing with Thirds anyway?" roared Sakuya.

"Everything!" said Mireille, as if the answer was supposed to be obvious.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

After uncovering their ears, everyone looked Audriane's way. Her gun was steaming as she lowered it. "That's _enough_," she ordered.

The silence that followed was so intense that they could hear each other breathing, noses flaring, like dogs panting from a fight.

"_Wooo_, Audriane!" praised Riki, panting.

Audriane threw her a glare. "SERIOUSLY!"

"Shit, sorry . . ."

"And you!" Audriane pointed her gun at Mireille. "You the adult here!"

Mireille opened her mouth to reply, but roared in frustration, almost as if giving up. She leaned against her knees, rubbing them. Kirika was already inspecting her jaw for any bruises.

"Sorry about that," muttered Sakuya.

"And YOU!" snapped Audriane, glaring at her. "You the Third Sapling! You should not be here!"

Her reaction seemed to shock Sakuya. "Um, I want to help?"

"You said so yourself that you knew what these Trials meant! That you were still going to participate in them!" Audriane's fingers tapped the gun at her side; this made Riki nervous, watching her.

"You our enemy," emphasized Audriane.

"Enemies can be friends," said Sakuya. Before Audriane could protest, she added, "Look, if I wanted you dead, you wouldn't be here—why do I have to explain myself?"

"We cannot afford to trust anyone but Mireille and Kirika," said Audriane, her thunderous tone dying down.

"I understand—."

"No, you end up killing us. That's what the Trials demand. Unless we get out here, you or Soldats won't stop till one of us dead."

"I don't _want_ to kill neither of you," murmured Sakuya.

"If that so, why you not here with us, training with us, _living_ with us? But you come and go, you disappear! How we trust you? We don't know what you do when you not around!"

"For all we know," said Kirika timidly, "you being here worsens things for us. Your superiors may not like this mingling."

Riki raised her hands to coax Audriane. "Hey, let's put that gun down. We can talk about this—Audriane, please."

Her partner looked at her, with a face she couldn't read. "Why you care about her that much? The Trials simple—either one of us dies, or she dies!"

"Because it's 'simple'!" hissed Riki, through gritted teeth. "Because we aren't murderers! We don't kill our _classmates_! We don't kill anyone! No one but the Soldats!"

"She plans to kill one of us, at some point! And I certainly plan it not to be me! Or you, Riki!"

"What if no one has to kill anyone?" said Riki, gesturing to everyone. "No one has to die. We lay down our weapons, and we plan an escape. We work together. It's become clear that each of us have only acted certain ways because the Soldats threatened our lives, or lives of others. But Audriane's right, Sakuya, you _could_ stay. What's keeping you?"

There was a weak glow in Sakuya's eyes. "I'm sorry, Riki, but she's right. It's not that simple."

Riki threw her hands in the air. "WHY NOT?"

"You're sweeter than you let anyone think, Riki. Because of that, you'll understand at some point."

Mireille stepped in between Riki and Sakuya. "We don't know anything about you, and you've been ordered to limit anything you tell us." The blonde cocked her gun at her side. "Explain to us why we shouldn't just shoot you right here, end it all? The four of us, against just you."

"Whoa there, Dutchess," said Riki, stepping between Sakuya and the others. "Look, everybody, we're not in the state to talk about this calmly. How about I talk to Sakuya, while you guys go vent or something and shoot at each other instead, yeah?"

"Shoot at each other?" echoed Mireille, but cringed when she realized what she just said totally deserved what Riki said next:

"You certainly don't hesitate on that."

Riki pulled Sakuya away from the group.

"And you can't afford to," said Mireille.

….

"You have a good friend there," said Sakuya. "Wasn't she that transfer student?"

"Yeah. Audriane Dupont," said Riki.

"Is that even a French name—a real name?"

Riki laughed. "That's what I thought."

"She seems to care about you."

"Well, we're all we've got."

They had wandered way off from Etxarren. Up the bowl of the lake to the other side. Now they were walking up a hill that seemed to curve up into the shape of a shark fin. There was another mountain range behind it in the distance, purple against the blue sky. The contrast made their hill greener, dappled with flatter rocks that appeared as though someone patted them down into the thin grass.

The two sat at the top of the hill. The brightness of the cloudless day made everything in sight blinding. Sitting in the grass, they felt the warm breeze speak for them.

Finally, Riki said, "Sakuya . . . what happened to you? How come you just come and go, like you're acting like you don't want to care? The others think you're just spying on us, that you're acting like you're helping, but really, you're leaking our weaknesses and our strategies to this other faction. I keep telling them you're not evil—."

"It's funny," blurted Sakuya. "We didn't know each other—more like, we knew _about_ each other through Ojiru, and because we were both 'popular'." She quoted that with her fingers. "Labels. High school. Teenagers. Haha."

Riki made a face, wondering where this was going.

"It all seems so . . . pointless now," continued Sakuya. "Education is important . . . but it pales in comparison to surviving—it pales to all of _this_."

"You're not answering me," said Riki. "Please tell me—prove to them—that you aren't really brainwashed."

"That's the thing," said Sakuya sternly. "High school was all about proving yourself, to your peers and teachers and parents. But out here, in the mountains, I don't have to. I am who I want to be."

"You sound crazy, you realize that?" Riki almost wanted to laugh about how similar Sakuya sounded to Audriane, but she didn't like it.

"Am I? Sorry." Sakuya lifted her face to the breeze. "We hate, and we hate, and we hate everything the Soldats did to us. We truly do. We are racked on getting our hellbent revenge, to the very end, no matter what, even if it means killing. Even when we hate killing. But . . . somewhere deep inside, in this void I didn't know existed till it was filled, I became grateful. For everything I've gone through. I'm stronger. I was never good at sports, but I did them anyway; I wasn't really good at many things. I'm not even that good of a fighter, even _now_—you're just not as good as me, so it makes me look good—."

"Haha," said Riki flatly.

Sakuya turned serious again. "But, I'm stronger than I was. And I'm _good_ at it. That's all that matters to me, that I can protect those who can't survive on their own."

The massacre. That's what Sakuya was referring to. All of a sudden, all those dark fears, those feelings Riki thought she'd suppress, came back. Charging at her like monsters, forcing her back into a corner, locking her feet in place. Overwhelming screams. The gunshots. The confusion. Running by Mireille's assumingly dead body; finding the principal dead at his intercom. Nearly killing Audriane. Those white masks.

"School," whispered Riki. Saying the word "massacre" seemed to give its grip more power, so she refused to ever use it again.

Sakuya sniffled, smearing the tears from her cheeks. "Yeah."

Riki swallowed, nodding, dazed. "Yeah. I miss them too."

They were like broken machines, nodding absent-mindedly to everything the other said.

For now, this was enough for Riki. She didn't dare push Sakuya to revisit terrible memories, didn't bother with any more questions. Watching the sophomore tremble, resisting her own tears, was heart-wrenching. And just looking at this forlorn girl was like looking at a ghost—someone who just drifted to and fro, with unfinished business. Not revenge, but something deeper. She was fighting something, she was afraid of something. Riki wished she could help.

It didn't make sense how this was the Third Sapling meant to kill her or Audriane. The _thought_ of literally thrusting a dagger into Sakuya's chest or shooting a bullet into her forehead, over some stupid Trials, was too much. So did the thought of Audriane dying. And Kirika. Even Mireille.

To be fair, she _knew_ Audriane and Sakuya. She'd seen them laughing with friends, answering the teacher's questions, get picked up by the bus or by parents, and then suffer through the same loss as her. They were all she had left of school, something she used to dread but now missed more than anything.

She had to get Sakuya to join them. The more people, the better. All she had to do was to figure out why Sakuya was hesitating, why she was so grounded on being Noir.

Sakuya's voice was muffled, her face in her arms around her knees. "I stay . . . because I love the mountains. I want to stay out here, where there are no people. No one can hurt me ever again. I'm glad to be here, despite everything."

Riki didn't argue like she normally would. It was a validated statement. Again, similar to what Audriane would say. So much like Audriane, it was almost sickening. It almost made her wonder how she could change the tides between the Saplings if she proved this to Audriane. Change the tides in a totally different way from what Mireille and Kirika assumed, predicted, quailed.

"Hey Riki," murmured Sakuya, peeking over her arms at Riki.

"Yeah?"

"I'm also glad you survived. I'm glad you're here."

It _was_ something to celebrate. To be alone in the mountains, away from a dark truth in humanity that you refused to admit was there—but with someone standing by you. Someone who shared your loss and your pain.

The Third slowly lay on her back, arms and legs spread without a care in the world, palms and toes facing up, eyes closed, chest rising and falling. Under all of that muscle and strange attire, Riki saw the real Sakuya.

"Your hair seems more red," blurted Riki.

"I'm an auburn. It's the sun hitting it at a certain angle."

"Huh, thought you always were a brunette."

"I guess I am, sort of. That's what auburn means, right? 'Reddish-brown'?"

Riki chuckled. "I guess." She lay down next to Sakuya.

"You seem to have gotten tanner," said Sakuya, eyes still closed.

"You too. I guess that's why we didn't recognize each other." Riki propped up on one elbow. "But your eyes, I never forgot them."

Sakuya supported herself up on both elbows behind her. "Wow, first pick-up line I've heard in a long time, since . . ." She stopped herself, and Riki knew she was talking about Ojiru, and for some reason it made Riki think of him and how his stupid ways made her like him even more, and it made her tear up a bit—even though it turned out that it wasn't him she'd been jealous about . . .

Riki refused to let their conversation fall apart. "Your eyes. It was how I was able to tell it was you. They're blinding, almost like the sun out here."

"Wow, that's so sweet." Sakuya was thoughtfully quiet. "How come you're never like that around your friend, and your trainers?"

"You saw how that witch is."

"Yeah, I _do_. Every time I come over. But . . ."

"Look, I just . . ." It felt like flames were eating up Riki's heart. "I just can't seem to forgive the people who brought us into this mess. They're victims as much as we are—but they were given a choice. Soldats threats or not, they _chose_ to bring us here. Just to save their own asses."

"Really?" Sakuya sat up. "That's _how_ you met them?"

"They 'saved' us, but kidnapped us all the way to here. We're children of warfare."

"No way . . . Now I understand why you act like you don't trust them. You want to, but you can't." Sakuya leaned to one side, her arm barely brushing Riki's. "Wow. And I thought I had an idea of everything . . ."

Riki stared. "Well . . . what _do_ you already know?"

"Um . . . well, I've been researching in this library—."

"A library? Where? In Laguardia?"

"Um. Yeah."

"Your superiors let you access anything like that? All that information?"

"Yes . . ." Sakuya was alarmed by Riki's excitement. She had expected this, but still, it made her nervous.

Riki paused. "Who _are_ your superiors?"

Sakuya gave her a flat look. "You know I'm not going to tell you. You've asked before."

"Oh come on! The Soldats aren't your BFF's or something!"

Sakuya smiled weakly. "I'm sorry, Riki, I can't . . ."

"Then escort us to Laguardia, at least!" Riki jabbed Sakuya in the arm with a finger. "You can't just up and walk away and disappear on us this time. You owe us!"

Sakuya gasped, smiling, yet still shocked. "I owe you nothing!"

"Yeah, for nearly killing me and Audriane—hunting us down in the night, then at the monastery!"

Pause.

"When you hunted us like some nocturnal psychopath!" continued Riki. "I couldn't tell which was worse, the _school_—man, how guilty I feel for saying that—or you tracking us down to the monastery—."

"Riki. What are you talking about?"

"What?"

"I never 'hunted' you. I didn't know about the First and Third Sapling until literally, like, an hour before I attacked you at the monastery."

"What? That wasn't you? Stalking us through the night?"

"I've got ego—I know I'm a pretty good fighter. But I can't see in the dark _that_ well."

"You serious?"

"Yes! If I'd been tracking you during the night, don't you think I would've known it was you and Audriane? I wouldn't have persisted to attack you at the monastery."

"That wasn't you?"

"NO."

Riki stood up, combing her hand through her hair. She hastily undid her sharp ponytail and put it up again. Then did it again, while pacing back and forth.

When Sakuya was about to say something, Riki put her hands on her hips and glared at her. Sakuya waited, but Riki said nothing, lost in thought.

Then. "We've got to get to Laguardia. And you're going to help us."


	19. Chapter 19: Names

Chapter 19

Names

"So," said Sakuya, "now that it's just the two of us, why don't we get to know each other?"

"I don't need to know anything about you," said the Knight. "Except for, how the hell the Soldats end up choosing you as the Third Sapling . . ."

"I dunno, you tell me. Is it the same reason why _your_ faction wants the Third Sapling?"

"What your faction is doing is looked down upon—look, I'm not supposed to say anything. I'm just bringing you to where you should've been."

Sakuya stopped in her tracks, turning around to face her captor. He stepped back, his gun pointed. "Don't," he warned, "or I'll order my men to kill that family."

She ignored him, eyes stern. "Why do you keep saying that? That I 'should've been somewhere else'. What does that mean?"

The Knight studied her hard. "That's what we thought—you don't know, do you?"

Sakuya was even more baffled. "What's there to know? I'm the Third Sapling. In the game of the Soldats, I kill the other two Saplings, or else they'll kill me. It's me or them. When someone tells you that two strangers will be looking for you, to kill you, you don't run, you don't cry—you put up a fight. Simply put, I don't want to die. _Plus_, I owe them, my people. They saved me from that horrible massacre, from whoever sent those men to my school. My faction cares about me. They trained me to become stronger, because they don't want to see me die. And I don't wanna die. So, there, it's as sample as that. I don't die."

"What do you know about the other two Saplings?" he asked.

"We don't know who they are yet. But when we do, I will kill them."

"Doesn't that concern you? You don't know what you're up against, or the fact that you are forced to kill other human beings?"

Sakuya suddenly felt the desire to kill him. "_You_ were just threatening an innocent family—don't you dare tell me who's the one being forced to kill other human beings!"

His eyes dimmed. "If I didn't threaten them, you wouldn't have come with me."

"You Soldats have a hard time using words these days. It's so hard for you to just _tell_ us things."

The Knight growled in frustration, but something about his mannerisms told Sakuya she had nothing to worry about. In fact, he didn't seem like a bad person, even when he stepped closer with his gun between her eyes, indicating her to turn around and continue the trek . . .

The vineyards below became obscured by the increasing amount of trees they passed. To her left, Sakuya could only see patches of green stripes zigzagging across the majestic Cantabrians.

"So then," said Sakuya, "I guess my question is, what concerns _you_, about the Three Saplings?"

"You can prod all you want. Let's just focus on our breathing, the hike's gonna get tough. And don't you try anything because any time my men will be joining us."

"Well, I'm not going to wait for them."

As she walked in front of him, she leaned forward and kicked her leg back, right into his face. He staggered, firing blindly. She then turned around, ducked, and slapped her hands around his pistol, pushing it upward. Her legs shot out, kicking him in the knees, as the gun went off. He fell onto his face. Grabbing him by scruff of his suit, she dragged him back up with his own gun at his head.

"Don't try anything," she said. "We'll continue our hike."

"What are you _doing_! I told you, my men will be here any moment—!"

"Which is why I had to take you down now." Sakuya pressed harder. "Keep going. And if anyone tries to reach you on your comm, you tell them everything is fine, or I shoot you in the head."

"They'll know something's up—when my men arrive, _they'll_ be the ones ordering the death of your friends—."

"Not when you're with me. You need me alive, that's why you haven't killed me yet. I _am_ Noir after all . . ." She smiled boastfully. "Pretty handy title if you ask me. I take it that even if your guys tried to shoot me down, _you_ won't let them. Because apparently I'm 'supposed to be somewhere else'. And I know you won't let them kill that family, because if they do, I'll go on a murdering spree, and no one wants to challenge Noir, and they'll try to kill me because it's the only way to stop me. Everyone will die. You. Me. Them. You don't want that to happen, am I right?"

The Knight grunted as she shoved him forward.

"So, to prevent that all from happening, before your men get here, you answer my questions. To start off, who sent you? I need _names_. What do they want with me—?"

Gunfire.

Sakuya ducked, spun around the Knight, and pressed his own gun against his temple, using his body as a shield. She looked around, sensing the gunshots came from the trail behind them that led back to Laguardia.

About ten men—who knows, maybe even more—behind the trees and rocks near the trail, their guns peeking out. Some had tried to stealth off the trail behind vegetation. Some didn't bother trying to hide, approaching the two slowly.

"I think you're a man who likes to live," said Sakuya into his ears. "Who likes to enjoy the sun on his skin, a walk in the park, a bit of reading here and there. It's just a guess. So just answer my questions, and you get to see eat your favorite food, meet a pretty lady, whatever. _Who_ is the leader of your faction?"

"You'll get your answers soon," pleaded the Knight. "If you just come with us."

"For all I know, you could be lying. Just tell me now."

"If I told you who they were, then your faction would go after them. Our leaders don't want their identities revealed until they have all Three Saplings—."

"What would someone do with all Three Saplings, alive—?"

"Look, that's all I'll tell you, so please, just come with us and you'll get your answers soon—."

"You're doing a great job, why stop now? Besides, I can't afford to blindly hand myself over to someone I don't know. Can't trust anyone. How can I guarantee the family's safety while I'm gone?"

"If you care about your little family, I suggest we go, _now_."

Sakuya's chest thudded slightly. She looked at the Knight, expecting him to order his men. She looked around, making sure she didn't miss a hidden Knight. The numbers isn't what concerned her, though, but her family. Her family. Her only.

"Look, we both know you can easily take out my men. I've realized that," said her prisoner. "But even if you could, chances of them ordering to kill the family are high."

"Just TELL me everything!" said Sakuya through gritted teeth, her heart pitter-pattering. "All I want are _answers_! To stand here, and _talk_! It's getting redundant here!"

"Even if I wanted to tell you anything, I can't. Someone could be watching."

"What does that matter—_who_? Who else is out there? How many fucking factions are there?" Sakuya shook violently, vexed. "Who is the real enemy here?"

He said nothing.

This was going nowhere. But she wanted answers so badly, almost as much as saving Lore and Arrosa and Elixabete and Xabier.

_Logic over emotions, Sakuya. Logic over emotions . . ._

She sucked in a huge breath, and exhaled. _After all of that . . ._

"Fine. Take me," she said, slowly letting him go. "But I'm keeping the gun. And, you are to _not_ harm that family."

Her cooperation shocked him. He finally nodded and waved over his men. They hesitated to step out, but when they watched him continue the trail, untouched, they slowly lowered their weapons, and followed in congregation. As they walked by, they glared at Sakuya, veins still popping, with frowns that looked like they've been glued on.

Sakuya wanted to laugh. They were walking ahead, not even waiting for her! Soldats were so weird, yet so entertaining.

She followed, and caught up with the lead Knight at the front.

"So what's your name?" she asked him.

"You shouldn't ask me that," he said. "Just like how I shouldn't ask you your name."

"Is that all I am to everyone? The Third Sapling? Some secret weapon everyone's warring over?"

"It's nothing personal. It shouldn't be—so don't ask what my name is."

"_Izena duen guzia omen da."_

He paused. "I thought you didn't know Basque."

"I don't. But I hear Xabier say it all the time to his little girls. What does it mean?"

"It means, 'That which has a name exists'."

"Oh."

"Why'd you say it if you didn't even know what you were saying?"

"I was hoping to get _anything_ out of you. It wasn't related to our current situation, but it answered something for me." Sakuya chuckled to herself.

He watched her as she thought about its meaning. "Well, forget about names, about mine," he said. "It's not me you care about, it's that family."

"What is it _you_ care about, then?"

"Stopping this madness."

"The Trials?"

He didn't say anything, just panted a bit as they wove around the boulders on the hill they were climbing. Around them, the Cantabrians were grayer and wrinkled from a distance. Now that Sakuya thought about it, maybe it was best that they never fought; they weren't in the best terrain to fight with all these loose clutters of rocks on the grassy slopes. The grass was longer, with bushy tufts, so it seemed softer in these areas. But even she could have rolled her ankle or hit her head. She wondered where they were heading, if they planned to hike all of this . . .

"Wait," said Sakuya. "Do _you_ know who the other two Saplings are?"

He chuckled, as if in disbelief. "Your superiors really don't tell you anything, do they?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"What do you _think_?"

Sakuya almost glared. She couldn't help but be offended. "They care for me. They're not bad people."

"Your family isn't bad," he said, nodding back to Etxea. "But your superiors . . .? Look. _Noir_. You have access to a public library. You should take advantage of that, do your own research—."

There was a gurgling cry from behind them. One of their men had collapsed. In unison, the rest of them drew out their guns, yelling to each other, flanking Sakuya and their lead Knight in a protective swarm. It was a confusing, interesting turn of events—from them attacking her and threatening her friends, to protecting her.

"Protect the Third Sapling!" yelled the lead Knight.

But more men fell to the whipping cry of bullets. Sakuya would have reacted fast and easily taken down whoever was shooting at them—but as of now, she didn't know who she should kill. Her own captors or the ones shooting at them all?

It was a blur of limbs, black suits, green grass . . . All the while, Sakuya stood there, watching their deaths around her. She looked around for the lead Knight lost in the confusion, whose men tried to cover him while he yelled on his comms. Her first instinct was to kill him, not sure if he was ordering the death of her family . . .

But above all that noise, she heard someone call to her: "Sakuya!"

And at the top of their hill stood another black shroud of men in suits. Among them, a woman with dark, short hair above the shoulders.

"Kill them all," she shouted.

A landslide wasn't your every-day sight. It didn't seem to register to anyone that there were rocks tumbling down toward them. Finally, the men around Sakuya reacted. They panicked, fled into each other as they tried to dodge, to flee. This wasn't something Sakuya could easily navigate through—and yet, it seemed she didn't have to worry about it. Round, flat, pointy, squarely boulders rolled toward her, but always around her, always hitting the men around her. It was almost cartoony the way the rocks simply rolled over the men, like they were made out of paper to begin with. She heard the echoing, accumulating sound of thuds, crunches, and the splatter of blood.

Finally, the earth stopped shaking, and the dust settled. Now that there were more rocks, it was stable enough for Sakuya to jump and step from rock to rock. She ignored the hands and feet she saw sticking out from beneath some, the reddish-brown stains splattered across the sides and undersides of rocks.

She found the lead Knight off to the side of the hill, pressed against a colossal wall of rock, almost plateau-like.

"Are you ok?" she asked him.

He was shaking, staring at the landslide. Sakuya turned around to catch a glimpse of his survivors fleeing back down the mountain, or disappearing behind hard-rock slopes.

A shadow consumed them both. Sakuya shaded her eyes with her hands, to see that the newcomer was aiming a gun.

"Everything's alright, now, Sakuya. We won't let anyone take you away."

"I let them take me," argued Sakuya. "They were going to take me to the leaders of the third faction—."

"That would've been a terrible idea, trusting people you don't know."

Sakuya put a hand on her hip. "You trained me to deal with this kind of stuff—!"

The lead Knight suddenly threw himself in front of her, aiming his gun up at the stranger. Sakuya could see his whole body shaking. Although he didn't panic like most people she's seen, his voice was slightly discorded with the fright and desperation of a cornered beast.

Sakuya yelled, "I surrendered myself to them to _prevent_ this!"

"Did you forget they threatened your friends back there? _Him_?"

"I _know_, that's why I walked away so they wouldn't get hurt," said Sakuya. She spoke to the Knight. "Here, lemme talk to her, she's my mentor—."

BANG!

Sakuya jumped, startled by the explosion. She looked at her mentor, afraid the Knight had shot her. Instead, he crashed to the ground in front of her. She stared, unable to fight the guilt she felt. And even though he was dead, she still wished she had learned his name.

_Izena duen guzia omen da._

Another part of her heart, shaved away. It was something she only felt for Lore and Arrosa . . . and for her mentor. Sakuya looked up at the woman, unable to read her expression, unable to tell whether to feel gratitude and love, or detestation.

"What's makes him any different from all the other Knights you've killed?" said her mentor, tucking her gun into the front of her blouse.

"I don't know," whispered Sakuya.

"Come now, did you really think he was going to spare you? Or even yet, tell you all the answers you needed to know?"

"We could have used those answers," snarled Sakuya.

"If you have any questions, then why didn't you just ask me? I'm your teacher, it is my duty to tell you everything you need to know."

Sakuya hesitated. "He said something about how I was supposed to be somewhere else. Do you know what he meant?"

The woman gave condescending sigh, as if Sakuya should have known better. "All Soldats say that, Sakuya. They'll say whatever it takes to get you. But I won't let them take you. I protect my own, as you should." Her mentor gestured back to the Etxea.

"How'd you hear about us being in trouble?"

"First, go home and get cleaned up and fed." Her mentor stopped in her tracks, looking back down at Sakuya. "By the way, the First and Second Sapling has been confirmed. So going with these men was pointless, anyway."


	20. Chapter 20: Auburn

Chapter 20

Auburn

The next day, Sakuya helped make lunch. With the twins, she plucked tomatoes, with sweet and hot red peppers from the family garden, and brought it inside. These completed the ingredients for _basquaise_, one of Elixabete's favorite cuisines to cook for the family. Meanwhile, Xabier and his friend poured the _txikito_, white wine. Sakuya also made sure the children were careful with spiking skewers and toothpicks into their _pintxo_, and putting an even amount of cod, stuffed peppers, and crotquettes on each thick slice of bread. After they were done preparing the appetizers, they set them in a presentable fashion on the serving table clothed in white, then, organized the silverware on the round, wooden table low to the floor.

Everyone sat down and said grace. As they ate, Sakuya wondered how shaken up the parents were from yesterday's conflict. They just ate, smiling and responding to Lore's and Arrosa's comments.

Most of the time, Sakuya expected—she _feared_—terror or distrust to look back at her . . . and yet, the parents still treated her like their daughter. Hugging her, having her help them with outdoor labor, playing with the children, chopping the wood, cleaning dishes. Like parents ignoring their children's bad behavior. It made her feel guilty and loved altogether. Just like the time when she fought off Knights that night the family found her scratched-up body on their land. When Knights came after her after already putting her through so much . . . when she put a knife through the throats of two Knights, in front of Lore and Arrosa . . .

Sakuya wondered if the children ever had a grasp of everything happening around them. She wouldn't be surprised if they did.

After lunch, Elixabete surprised her daughters with dessert. Arrosa sat on Sakuya's lap as they shared Chocolate Gateau Basque, a simple, faded chocolate cake. As Arrosa ate, Sakuya pulled the girl's hair back into a ponytail, admiring the reddish hue in her dark hair. Reddish-brown, like hers. For some reason, it made Sakuya smile, as if she really was related to them.

Afterwards, Elixabete took her daughters to Laguardia so they could enjoy its library books. Normally Sakuya would accompany them, hoping to take this as a chance to do some more research on the Basque culture and maybe even its language, but Xabier gave her a look that said for her to stay. That silence was usually casual and pleasant—but with Xabier's unnamed friend with them, it didn't feel like home.

"Sakuya."

It wasn't Xabier who said it, but his friend.

"I've been meaning to ask your name," said Sakuya, blinking. "But wasn't sure if you'd understand what I was saying anyway. But you could all along, couldn't you?"

The bearded man nodded. He was a Caucasian with a large nose, and a strong brow with dignified brown eyes and thick eyebrows like fuzzy caterpillars. His graying hair was a tuft that had gone wild toward the back. Under those traditional white, rolled-up sleeves and black simple vest and gray trousers, he was handsome and strong for a man in his late fifties.

"How are you feeling?" he continued. "My cousin here would like to thank you for protecting the family."

His fluent English—or rather, him speaking to her at all—left Sakuya dumbfounded.

Finally, she said, "Your cousin?" Looked at Xabier. "I thought you two were just friends! He never ever hinted that you were related."

Chuckle. "Well, I don't think he _could_ tell if you even if he tried."

"What's your name?" asked Sakuy.

"My name is Asher."

Sakya froze. "As in . . . _Sir_ Asher?"

He smiled. "Yes, child."

"How come I haven't met you till now?"

"Well, a man of the Soldats can be very busy. Especially when it comes to matters concerning the Saplings."

"All those times you visited . . . it was because you were watching me, wasn't it?" Sakuya stood up, slamming her hands on the table. "Explain yourself!"

"Well, they _are_ my family," said Asher, laughing. "But yes, I was also visiting to check on the famous, strong, young woman who's made it all the way to the Cantabrians. I had to check how your recovery was going. You went through a lot—first recovering from a gun shot to the chest, then Shirihime freeing you from that faction's custody—then you flying from Tokyo to Spain, followed by a string of heartless ambushes that you two had to fight through to get to here. She loses you in the midst of it, and then we suddenly find you in my cousin's house. Pretty stunning."

Sakuya was speechless.

"Well, and of course," added Asher, "see how you've progressed in your training with Shirihime after you recovered with my family."

Sakuya looked over to Xabier, her chest filled with a cold sense of dread. "Wait. Xabier, are you a Soldat?"

The one word Xabier knew; his eyes glinted with understanding. But he shook his head.

"No, he is not," said Asher. "It just happens to be coincidental that a stranger who took you in is related to a powerful Soldat."

This relieved Sakuya, who leaned back into her chair. Just because she let Soldats train her, didn't mean she would have been fond of the idea of these people to be part of something so malevolent and dark.

"You're glad, I see," said Asher, watching her. "You've grown attached to them, haven't you?"

Sakuya didn't want to admit it, especially to a man she'd just met—or at least, learned the identity behind. Even if he was Shirihime's "lord".

Sir Asher held his empty wine glass, rotating it in circles by its skinny neck. He was lost in thought, then shared a look with Xabier, and then at Sakuya.

"Since this is our first time meeting," he said warmly, "I'd like to get to know you. What are you opinions on being the Third Sapling? Of the Trials, and Noir, and the Soldats?"

Sakuya hesitated, chewing on her lip, looking at Xabier.

"It's a harmless question," said Asher, smiling. "You're not a police dog for the Soldats. You are Sakuya, a human being. With extraordinary skills of a fighter, with an extraordinary destiny."

"I . . . I don't know," said Sakuya. "I just want to be left alone in the mountains. But I guess the only way to do that is to protect what I have here." She looked back at Xabier, who smiled thinly at her. It was sad for her to admit that he almost replaced her real father. But it couldn't be helped. She couldn't just leave them.

"So, you don't mind being the Third Sapling? Despite all those heinous things you've been through?" asked Asher.

Dark memories—creeping nightmares in her currently awakened consciousness—swamped Sakuya's head. The shooting. Then after her recovery, the fights. Fight, after fight, after fight. More like _struggles_. She could barely stand, barely breathe, barely move another inch. Men were everywhere, always wanting to kill her. Coming around corners, through windows, in groups, jumping her from above. In the trees, behind bushes, in the stores, in the bathrooms, or as casual customers in a line to the grocery cashier. They had guns, bombs, knives, axes, anything—everything they could to kill her.

"To protect the innocent," said Sakuya, "I have to be a killer. I've accepted that I've lost everything I knew—including my former self, whoever that was. I accept the role of the Third Sapling. Even if it means being put through hell. Whatever makes me stronger, so that I can protect . . . my family. To be _arreba_."

She smiled at Xabier, who looked like he was trying to understand the context of her use of a Basque word.

"I'm glad you like my family," said Asher, beaming. "It's good to know the powerful Noir is in the care of people I trust, too." He glanced sideways at his cousin, a look that was gone before Sakuya even knew it was there.

Asher scooted his chair back and stood up, walking over to the stone wall from across the dining table. There were square-shaped holes in it, as if pieces had been removed; full of tin cans, vases, or other miscellaneous décor. To the far left, was a large groove, almost shrine-like. Three shelves held a tin watering can, some glass bottles, and an ambiguous wiry basket. And in the center, a hanging picture frame of the family.

Sakuya would see the parents looking at it on a daily basis. While Lore and Arrosa admired it, their parents, however, looked at it in a more empty way—especially whenever their daughters looked at it excitedly. As if the parents didn't always see what they already had; they were seeing something that could have been. Sakuya understood this feeling, because she's felt the same way looking at that photo. It was yearning. And she also knew because Xabier and Elixabete would look at her in a similar way.

Sakuya joined Asher's side to study the family photo. Elixabete was a little younger than her husband, probably around fifty-five-years-old, with wrinkles around the eyes and smile. Short, wavy reddish-brown hair to the shoulders. Big, pointy, but strong Basque nose. Xabier was a fairly stocky man, with a little plump of a belly, but capable arms. He had extremely short, trimmed hair, which left room for a large, strong forehead and brow—hooding big black eyes that made the whites of his eyes pop. More soul Sakuya has seen in anyone else's eyes. His leathery tan skin from toiling outside pushed this contrast even more. And that wide, thin, Basque mouth Sakuya was noticing around Laguardia . . .

"I had another niece once," said Asher, caressing the picture frame with a finger. "Xabier's daughter—before he had Lore and Arrosa six years ago, even way before that."

"What happened to her?"

Before Asher could reply, someone grabbed Sakuya by one shoulder. She turned to see it was Xabier, his face suddenly determined. He muttered in Basque, glaring at Asher. Meanwhile, his hand squeezed Sakuya's shoulder intensely. The shoulder squeeze of a loving father.

"What is he saying?" she asked Asher.

"He asks I don't mention his first daughter. It's a painful memory."

"Wait, he understands what we're saying?"

"No. The body is a mystical, separate language of its own," marveled Asher. "That's the thing about human connections." He nodded solemnly to his cousin, as if understanding the request. "Maybe, if you tried to learn the Basque language, you would be able to communicate with him. Ask him about his daughter, one day."

Sakuya smiled. "Yeah. Maybe."

Asher watched her expression as she put her hand on Xabier's hairy arm. "The Basques are a proud people," he said. "They learn to adapt—_you_ have learned to adapt. You have earned your rightful place among this family, this Etxea."

"They took care of me," said Sakuya, tears swelling in her eyes. "It sounds horrible, but they're all I have close to a family after losing mine. I won't lose them. I have nothing else. No one else . . . no one else . . ."

"So does being the powerful Third Sapling in this isolated beauty with her mountain family sound good to you?" chuckled Asher. "You'll stay in Etxea, become part of Etxea, and even after you die your children will bear its name? You will grow up here and die here? Die for Etxea?"

Sakuya said nothing, but her thoughtful expression led Asher to believe he was hitting a spot. But then her face lit.

"It was _you_ they were negotiating with, wasn't it?" she blurted. "Not Xabier, but you. Yesterday, when the Knights held the family hostage."

Asher rubbed his brow, with a heavy sigh. "Yes. They knew who I was, I think. And I couldn't risk my family, so I left everything in your hands by giving you to them. I knew that you could handle them on your own, out in the woods, away from here. Did I think wrong?"

"No, you were right to do that," said Sakuya, flaring her nostrils.

"I'm glad our views are the same, that we both have something to fight for. Family is important. _Etxea_ is important."

She nodded, but then hesitated, brow wrinkling in thought. "But they're not safe here. They'll never be, anywhere. . . because the First and Second Saplings are here, aren't they?"

"We just received word from our sources, yes."

"Tell me where they are. _Now_. I'll go there, and end this. To protect my own."

…..

"We are not going to Laguardia, not yet," said Mireille, firing at the walking sticks she stuffed into the dirt, something Kirika had been doing to challenge the girls' aim.

"Why not? We're ready, aren't we?" growled Riki, shooting her own set of sticks.

"Ready _enough_," corrected Mireille.

Riki fired, chipping off wood off a stick. "You're being confusing. You want us to be ready to handle real-life threats, real enemies, but you won't let us even get to that part!"

"We think you're ready," said Kirika softly, stepping up next to Riki. "It's just, well, you didn't do so well the last time you saw men in masks."

"What is it with those masks, anyway?" roared Riki, blasting a stick. Its two halves spun in opposite directions.

"Ask the King of Fools over there," said Mireille, who didn't even look at Sakuya, but immediately everyone knew who she meant.

Sakuya pulled the hood-like bandana with the Knights' grinning crescent smile over her mouth and nose. "My guess is that it's a psychological thing," she said, shrugging. She turned to Riki, pointing to herself. "Do I look so scary now?"

Riki tried not to laugh. "Well. Not as ugly as those men."

Sakuya batted her eyelashes. "So, I'm prettier than them?"

Riki looked away, trying to focus on her target. "Sure," she said. She fired, but missed.

_"Femme fatale!"_ coughed Audriane.

Riki looked sideways at her. "You ok?" She raised an eyebrow.

Audriane cleared her throat, and continued to fire her own rounds.

"Hey, what the hell was that? French or something?" said Riki, glaring at her. "I'm telling you, speak English or better Japanese."

"If you paid attention in our Literature class," said Sakuya, stepping in between Riki and Audriane, "you'd probably know what that word means."

Riki glared at both Saplings. "What _does_ it mean?"

"You really _don't_ own a dictionary," muttered Audriane.

"It's ok, Riki," laughed Sakuya. "Audriane basically called me sultry and attractive."

"You sure _you_ know what it means?" whispered Audriane, firing at the sticks.

"Hey, have you ever used your femme fatale for your missions?" joked Sakuya, grinning at Mireille, who ignored her. "Well, did she, Kirika?"

"A few times," giggled Kirika, throwing a berated Mireille an apologetic look.

"This is not what we're here to talk about," began Riki. "We should go to Laguardia—."

"You don't even know _what_ we're talking about," sniggered Mireille.

Everyone else erupt in laughter, especially Audriane, who looked at Mireille as if seeing a genuine side of her for the first time.

Riki turned red. "I _would_ if people told me what it meant!"

When they all kept snickering at her, Audriane melted to her knees, bending over, holding her stomach, her other hand waving in front of her as if begging for mercy. This only aggravated Riki further, who aimed her gun down at Audriane on the ground.

But Sakuya, stifling a giggle, lowered Riki's gun, her other hand on Riki's shoulder. "It's fine, Riki. Here, I'll tell you what it means . . ."

She pulled Riki in close and whispered into her ear. The warmth of her grip on Riki's arm. The arousing closeness of her chest against Riki's. The very heat of her breath on Riki's ears sent her own heat waves throughout her body. And instantly, she thought of Ojiru. How he and Sakuya leaned into each other, whispering into each other's ears, sitting across from her at mixers. How she and Riki would tease him, just to embarrass him in front of his friends. How they kissed on the sidelines of the soccer field where his team practiced next to Riki's. How seeing that single hint of that auburn hair out in the sunny day told her that Ojiru was there too . . .

And for Mireille, how Chloe whispered those poisonous words of Noir to Kirika that day.

Finally, Riki withdrew, her body scorching with a different emotion other than aggravation. She looked into Sakuya's eyes. How could this sweet, gentle person be so dangerous?

"She didn't tell you the actual definition, did she?" said Mireille rather monotonously.

Riki refused to look anyone else in the eye. She turned and tried to focus so hard on nothing else but shooting down those sticks.

Audriane coughed, "Femme fatale!" Then, laughed at her own joke before she even finished saying it. But when no one agreed, she looked to see that her trainers were studying Riki and Sakuya.

Sakuya folded her arms. "Ya know, I really hate that look you always give me."

"We still don't know a thing about you," said Kirika guiltily.

"If you want to get to know me so bad, why don't you fight me?"

Everyone stopped what they did to watch. Riki and Audriane almost gave that "don't!" look at Sakuya, who pulled out her knives. She didn't raise them, but kept them by her side.

"How about it?" she said cheerfully. "You don't seem to be one of words, Mireille—and you especially, Kirika—so let's talk the only way we know."

"That is . . . actually an entertaining idea," said Riki, smirking at Mireille. "I'd like to see who is better."

Kirika and Audriane expected Mireille to shrug off the challenge, but the Corsican reloaded her gun. "Gladly," she said.

"What about us?" begged Audriane. "If we prove to you we ready, we go to Laguardia?"

This time, Mireille lowered her gun. "Not with the Third Sapling's help." She turned her back on Sakuya. "I will not face the three of you together. This isn't what we were paid for—this isn't part of the Trials."

"Who says?" said Riki, joining Sakuya's side. "I think it'd be a great chance to prove ourselves to you. Face it, students eventually surpass their mentors. Besides, you and Kirika are like . . . _killer_ good, so, we'd appreciate Sakuya's help."

Kirika frowned. "I don't find this . . . right. To include the Third Sapling in our training."

"She's _been_ training us—now c'mon, us three go against you two!"

Audriane reluctantly stood next to Riki. She didn't want to have anything to do with Sakuya, but at the same time, since she was the one who suggested the trio idea, she still wanted to take this chance to prove their skill. She said nothing, allowing Riki do all the talk, while looking over at Sakuya. Could such skill be trusted in their midst? Any second, during battle, Sakuya could actually kill them.

"I'm sorry, but did I train you to cower behind some femme fatale?" said Mireille. "If you can't fight us without Sakuya's help, then you might as well hand the title of Noir over to her. Die in a hole for all I care."

"I don't see what's wrong with the three of us working together," murmured Riki.

"Take it or leave it," said Mireille. "You two against us two. No Third."

Riki felt her jaw clamp as she clenched her teeth. "You don't control what happens next in my story. You don't make decisions in _my_ life!"

She raised her gun.

"It's _my _life!"

And fired.


	21. Chapter 21: The Three Saplings

Chapter 21

The Three Saplings

"You kind of asked for it," said Kirika as she trailed Mireille through the woods.

"Yeah, but, _I'm_ the professional—I can decide to kill or not to kill," growled Mireille. "We have the accuracy and control to shoot a target wherever we want on their bodies. Or not to shoot, just rattle them. But those girls can't do that yet. They've improved, but—dammit, Riki actually thought _shooting_ me would prove them Noir. It does nothing but _kill_ me."

Kirika dared not laugh, just smiled to herself.

After forcing the Three Saplings to take cover in the Etxarren, Noir had retreated into the woods. Mireille planned for them to wind their way around the giant lake. Cover in the woods bought them time, but only for so long. So many things could go wrong. The unpredictable, lumpy terrain could lead to tripping or a branch in the eye. Their noisy crunchy footsteps would make them just as detectable as their opponents' footsteps to them. It was a double-edged sword.

"Think they can do it?" asked Kirika, looking around them warily.

"With the Third Sapling's help, most likely."

"Sakuya's right. You grudge against Thirds. It's kind of unfair to her."

"Well, I'd sympathize if we knew everything about her. But we don't," said Mireille rather flatly.

There was a snap. They swung their weapons toward the source. When it was quiet, they continued walking.

"Maybe Riki's right," said Kirika. "We have to go to Laguardia. We'll get our answers there—one of them, maybe about Sakuya."

"First, I'd rather focus on saving Noir the embarrassment of being shot down by fourteen-year-olds," said Mireille dryly.

"Sixteen."

"Sixteen? I thought freshmen were like, fourteen or fifteen?"

"They definitely don't _act_ fourteen. Riki was adopted, remember? She's had to been held back a year or two before starting school. I think that's why she has a hard time knowing things others would know. As for Audriane, she's smart."

"Right." Mireille sighed. "Well, anyway, this world doesn't care how old they are. They are the Three Saplings . . . _if_ Sakuya is the Third."

"I wonder what that means. What happened in the Trials for the Soldats to pick up Sakuya instead? Who was supposed to be the Third Sapling?"

Mireille shrugged. "We'll figure it out, we always do. Nothing lasts forever—the Soldats will crumble. Kings eventually fall."

Kirika was silent, until she asked, "Do you think we'll live long enough to grow old?"

Mireille slowed down so Kirika was side-by-side with her. She smiled at her questioningly. "Which would you prefer? Die young and heroically, or become a bored ol' curmudgeon?"

"I've had my youthful thrills," said Kirika. "I would like the retirement."

"We're in the Cantabrians, I think that counts as retirement . . ."

"For the wrong reasons, though."

Mireille didn't see this as a productive conversation, just Kirika's soft guilt-trip— so she switched back to their main objective. She looked back down toward the lake, a glint of blue through the obscuring trees.

"I'm kinda glad we didn't teach them tracking," she joked. "Well . . . maybe after this, we should."

"I never saw you as the tracking type."

"You kinda figure it out along the way." Mireille scanned the area, sighing. "Well. They have plenty of options on how to beat us. We've taught them how to shoot, now let's see them apply it to their environment."

…..

"I found it," said Riki, who returned to the dining table with a map. "It's the same one from when we first hiked up here."

Sakuya's eyes lit up. "Good thinkin'." She and Audriane helped Riki spread the map flat out on the table.

"There," said Riki, pointing at a familiar oval shape on the map. "Here we are. The lake. Those two will be sorry for leaving us with the Etxarren. We've got cover from all sides if we stay in here."

Audriane made a face. "That your plan? Hide here? We should advance—surprise them, before they make a move on us. There three of us."

"Maybe you should . . . count me out," said Sakuya.

Riki glared at her. "Seriously? You're the one who challenged them! We stepped in to support you!"

"Well, you kinda stole my battle from me," said Sakuya, raising an eyebrow. "Besides, like Mireille said, this is your training. I helped you with combat, now you need to do this on your own."

"You're a Sapling, too," said Riki. "If it weren't for your super-dooper 'superiors', you would've been _here_ with us, training _with_ us."

Audriane sighed. "Maybe she's right, Riki. Let's do it, just you and me. This is our chance to prove ourselves. _Us_!"

Riki put a hand on her hip, giving Sakuya a skeptical look. "How many men have you killed in your training?"

"I didn't keep count."

Audriane didn't like the sound of that. She turned to Riki. "She already has experience. We don't. Using her would be cheating."

"Rules don't apply to a life-and-death situation," said Riki, almost pleadingly. "She's gonna help us. It's all about beating the enemy, not how you do it. They die, or you die. Please, Sakuya. Help us."

Sakuya folded her arms, her choice unquestionable. "_No_. I worked my ass off to get where I am. You will too."

"Oh please, don't treat this like some school exam," snapped Riki. "Don't tell me you take pride in what you've gone through to become as good as you are."

"I _do_ take pride in my efforts," said Sakuya, tilting her head at Riki as if she couldn't believe the way she was talking to her. "And what do you know about me? You don't know what I went through."

Riki fell silent, glancing at the faint silver scars all over Sakuya's body. "Fine," she murmured. "You're right—this is our chance to prove ourselves."

"_I_ said that," growled Audriane.

In all that gradual anger, Sakuya felt a prick of guilt. "Don't make that face. I feel horrible."

Audriane tapped the table impatiently. "It's decided! Riki and I only. Us two against those two."

Riki and Sakuya held each other's gaze, while Riki asked, "So . . . are you going to leave?"

Sakuya shrugged. "I dunno. Maybe I want to see how you do."

For some reason, this irked Audriane. She had patiently—_barely_—allowed Sakuya to show them some tricks. So far, the Third hadn't shown any intentions on harming them. She'd been polite and observant; she smiled and joked with Riki, attempting with their trainers. She was even now telling Riki to work hard, to fight, even though it meant that Riki only listened to her. How ridiculous was that! For a friend to ignore her friend over a _crush_? It was like high school all over again!

_Yeah. If only . . ._

Audriane glanced at Sakuy, who looked back, confused.

No. She didn't want Sakuya there, like some condescending Soldat spectator.

In fact, there was something oddly familiar in the way she watched them.

"Ok," said Riki, focused. "We know our surroundings pretty well, right? So we've got our lake, our Etxarren, the woods . . ."

"The stables," added Audriane. "The giant boulder behind us, the garden, the rocks all over the place. . . the monastery."

"Too far out. It'd be exhausting, you know that," said Riki. "Let's end it swiftly. Simple tricks they won't see coming. Let's draw them back here to Etxarren."

"And what trap do you propose?" asked Audriane.

"Just go out there, take initiative," interrupted Sakuya. "_End_ it."

"Shush, you're not here," said Riki, eyes still glued to the map.

Audriane wanted to mouth her agreement, but didn't say anything. She kept her eyes on the map. She didn't want to feel anger or maybe what could have been jealousy toward the Third Sapling after all the help she has provided. After all, it wasn't Sakuya's fault she was placed into all of this. It was none of their fault . . .

"Look," said Riki, "all I'm saying is that we've got to keep an eye out in all these areas. By digesting this map, we see how _they_ look at things, predict what they might do—think ahead."

Audriane nodded in agreement. "That's a start. But what's our _trap_?"

"Shouldn't you be worrying about where Mireille and Kirika are _now_?" said Sakuya. "Look out the window, see if they're not nearby?"

A surge of fire rushed through Audriane's veins. Maybe she just didn't like being so . . . inexperienced, so weak and clueless compared to Sakuya. But she knew Sakuya was right, and peeked out the kitchen window.

"I'm _sorry_," snapped Riki, looking up at Sakuya, "was that you saying you wanted to help us after all? If it wasn't, then why are you still talking? You're giving mixed signals here."

_You're telling me,_ thought Audriane. She eyed the tension between Riki and Sakuya. Sometimes it looked like Riki would do whatever Sakuya would say, other times Riki would be Riki, ignoring the help she needed at the most dire time.

Right there and now, Audriane wondered if that was their best bet: Sakuya taking lead. Or at least, instructing them. Would Riki listen? Would they be able to win this with Sakuya's guidance? Would this sacrifice the chances of Riki trusting and listening to Audriane, her own partner? Was this even a _healthy_ idea on Riki's behalf?

Of course not, Sakuya was the Third._ They_ were to be Noir together.

"Riki," said Audriane. "Do you trust me?"

Riki looked up from the map. "After everything we went through? Of course."

Shocked, Audriane beamed. "Really?"

"Yeah?"

"Really?"

"_Yeah."_

"But you trust me more than the Third Sapling?"

"Yes, the fellow human being standing next to you has a name," said Sakuya flatly.

Riki snorted but gave Audriane her full attention. "Look, Audriane . . . that seems like an unfair question. You're putting me on the spot here. Let's just focus on teamwork—."

"Which is about _trust_," interrupted Audriane. "And communication. And listening. Me over her, Riki. We don't know her, but I know you, and you know me. We're partners."

"For some reason," growled Sakuya, "coming from you, it's insulting—in ways, worse than from Mireille."

Riki looked frantically from Sakuya to Audriane. "I trust you, Audriane," she said firmly. "That's all that matters."

Audriane nodded, taking a deep breath. "You're right. Thank you."

…

It had been fifteen minutes since their meeting in the Etxarren. Their best guess was that by then, Mireille and Kirika would split up, probably wound around the lake to gain distance. They weren't sure, so Riki, being more aggressive and impatient, volunteered to track them down while Audriane and Sakuya stayed behind.

"They wouldn't actually shoot and kill Riki, right?" asked Audriane, as she and Sakuya flipped the dining table over.

"I don't know them like you do," said Sakuya. "My mentor teaches a little differently. She's tough like yours, but most certainly different."

Audriane was about to ask the mentor's name, but remembered Sakuya wouldn't answer anything like that. So she focused on grabbing the tablecloth from the pantry and spreading it over the legs of the lopsided dining table. They draped all windows with towels, wash clothes, placemats. Then, nailed the doorways with sheets stripped from the beds.

"They're your trainers," said Sakuya, passing Audriane as she hung their silverware by strings to their windows. "I doubt they'd shoot you in vital areas—just places where they can cripple you."

Audriane had been near unconsciousness when Kirika knocked Riki out back at the school. But she knew what she saw. It wasn't the most pleasant, last image to see before blacking out—but a good reminder of who they were up against.

"So, why all the furniture?" grunted Sakuya. The beds screeched as they pushed them around across the freshmen's bedroom floor. "Seems . . . overboard. And paranoid."

"What do you _think _they're for?" challenged Audriane. They propped the beds onto their sides, ripping the mattress sheets off to swath around the legs of the bed. Repeated the process in Mireille and Kirika's bedroom.

All the while, Sakuya gave Audriane a look. She wanted to say something—she couldn't believe how rude the French was being—but let it go. Now they just had to focus, do their part, while Riki was out there doing hers.

"Same thing with every piece of furniture," said Audriane. "Bed tables, drawers, wardrobes, chairs . . ."

"Everything looks like it's been passed through the generations," murmured Sakuya. "I fear their bullets will shoot right through." She frowned, almost with disapproval. "Not a lot to go with, in this house."

"It's enough," said Audriane. "Now, as for you . . ."

Sakuya blinked. "I thought I—."

"You won't raise a finger. But you _will_ do your part."

…

Mireille and Kirika were on the opposite side of the lake. Etxarren was far across, barely visible among all that rock, grass, and trees.

Their guns were still drawn, but they hadn't sensed anyone skulking out there. So they carved around the lake along the pebbled beach. Mireille thought it was a good chance to scout what they hadn't really explored. This side was more of a landslide than of grass and rock, curving up on both sides to jagged mountains. It almost looked squashed and flattened out, sinking, as if a giant stomped his foot there. A protruding hump of a peak was to the left, crowned with more rocky walls. Just what they needed—an open invitation to outsiders, to invaders, to enemies.

"We should secure this side somehow," said Mireille apprehensively.

"How? We have no means of being able to," said Kirika. "We can't just scout here on a daily basis, even if two were sent out here. It's just too risky, in case there was an ambush waiting."

"But someone's gotta do it. We can't just let enemies pour in. Even though it's a landslide, it's easier to climb down than anywhere else."

"We'll just have to keep an eye on it from afar, that's all."

"Speaking of which . . . I'm kinda disappointed," murmured Mirelle. "They haven't chased after us—."

"Mireille."

"Hm?" She turned, following Kirika's glance toward one of the gray boulders. It was tapered and lopsided to one side, but bulgy and tumorous on the other. Aside from the giant one behind Etxarren, it was huge; almost as big as a hut. But when Kirika led Mireille around the boulder, they realized it _was_ a hut. The boulder served as the roof, on top of a low yet stable foundation of assembled rocks. A flimsy wooden door fitted perfectly into all that natural disorder.

From behind—with the surrounding, wild lumps of earth—it was an ordinary boulder among others. But walk around it, and you were greeted a path of rocks that led to the door.

"How . . . could we have missed this?" gasped Mireille.

"More importantly . . . who's been living in it?" whispered Kirika.

Mireille turned to face Kirika—just as a bullet missed her. There was a _cluchunkg _in the stone hut behind her. By the time she reacted, Kirika was already shooting in response. Always five steps ahead, that one . . .

With the sudden fog of gunfire, they were forced behind the stone hut. They fired back, then ducked again to reload. When they peeked around the corner, they saw Riki standing there on the beach.

Her shots didn't reach them, though. She was still far away, a dot in the distance, which explained why she missed. Noir just stood there; observed where her shots burst around them. _Definitely_ improving. But when they looked up, she was veering around the water toward them to close the distance, to make her shots count.

Mireille gave a sweeping glance at the area. She didn't see Audriane or Sakuya. Either they were back at the Etxarren, or close by. Not being able to see them anywhere was all the more reason to be on edge.

They couldn't hide behind the boulder forever like sitting ducks. That's not how Noir ever worked. The battle had to continue.

Without a word, Mireille ran. Kirika followed, shooting over her shoulders at Riki. It was their only option, knowing Riki hadn't much practice with _moving_ targets. And with the way the lake curved, Riki would have to hit them while running, at a constantly moving angle, while bending around the bank. Recalling that her endurance wasn't all that striking, they figured she'd get winded.

"Count your bullets, they go faster than you think, kid," panted Mireille. She whirled around and shot back.

Riki threw herself to the ground, misleading them into thinking they actually killed her, which ignited them with adrenaline and panic. However, the student had landed on her back, shooting at them between her legs raised defensively in front of her. It was something they remembered Sakuya teaching Riki when fighting a knife-wielder.

In a fit of pride and vexation, Mireille fired back. She saw puffs of dirt around Riki, who scrambled to her feet and continued to run after them. Which was actually surprising.

There were no rocks in their presence. No cover. Just beach. Noir kept running, hoping the sand would slow Riki down, teach her a lesson about considering her environment.

That very thought backfired on Noir: Riki chased them across an awkward scarp; they were all practically wall-running along it. Leaning at an angle against the hillside, tripping or sliding, Noir tried to put distance between them and Riki. She persisted, however—this stubborn, insane dog behind them, groping along the rocky slope, tripping but clambering on all fours to pick up speed. Relentless. Almost terrifying. The most effort she ever showed ever since this all started.

Riki was gaining on Mireille just ahead of her. When she was close enough, she'd shoot. _Where_, she wondered? Leg? Arm? Did Noir want them to actually kill them?

The blonde jumped off the rocky slope back onto a thin strip of beach that met with an edge of grass. Riki followed; just as she landed behind Mireille, the assassin stopped abruptly, turning her gun on Riki, who nearly crashed into her. Bewildered, Riki froze. Behind her, Kirika—crouched against the rocks she had jumped over—stood up and revealed herself. She leveled her gun as well.

"When you're chasing someone, know where they are at all times," lectured Mireille. "You fell for a very simple trap."

"So did you."

Mireille whirled around at the sound of another voice. It was Sakuya, a dagger in each hand. There was another sound, of a familiar click. This time Mirelle looked over her shoulder to see that Riki aimed her gun. They were all now at gunpoint.

"I told you to stay out of this!" roared Riki, glaring at Sakuya over Mirelle's shoulders.

"I couldn't agree more," said Mireille, who fired and advanced toward Sakuya without hesitation.

"If you even _hurt_ her—!" roared Riki, but Kirika shot her gun out of her hands.

Riki cried out in pain at the sting in her fingers, and bent over. When she looked up, Kirika was already slide-tackling her in the dirt, crashing into her shins, sweeping her off her feet. Just as she'd practiced, Riki caught herself in a perfect roll, back on her feet. Again, Kirika was already in her face. She didn't shoot. Just kept kicking and swiping at her, no punches, no intentions on actually hitting her. It was a dodging lesson, how to take on an enemy obviously stronger and better than you. All Riki could do was step backwards and duck, or jump, or block with fists in front of her face. Each blow was bruising, or landed a scratch across her cheeks, a wind-blowing gut in the stomach, a crack or bending of the knees. Each very painful, nothing like the playful sparring with Sakuya. She'd been tough, but never did she try to hurt Riki . . .

When Kirika threw another punch, Riki rolled backwards and sprang back to her feet. But Kirika followed up with a knee into her diaphragm, then a punch. Hot with adrenaline, Riki slid to the side, stepped around her, and spun, almost off Kirika's back. Then, gathering all the energy into her legs, she mustered the biggest jump and kicked sideways into the back of Kirika's head with both feet. It sent the older Japanese staggering forward, with a kitten-like whimper that almost made Riki regret it. However, Kirika used her stumbling momentum by running toward a rock and side-stepping off it, catapulting into Riki.

Meanwhile, Sakuya's graceful dodging had forced Mireille to resort to combat. She couldn't afford wasting any more bullets in a close-range battle going nowhere, so she chased after Sakuya. However, the Third only teased her, bouncing swiftly between angular rocks as if merely stepping on them. She vaulted smoothly over rocks, from one side to the other, confusing Mireille. With flips and twists, leaping and rolling along her back, onto her feet. Taking advantage of the clustered terrain and her agility. Such prowess—almost everything Mireille dreamed of for Riki and Audriane . . .

The Corsican refused to let this blind her with rage. She ducked behind a boulder, pulling out her gun. She would have none of this mockery. None of this tiring, endless cat-and-mouse.

There were only so many rocks Sakuya could rely on—she couldn't hide behind each of them or hop-scotch forever. Mireille shot up and whipped her gun out, resting it on the head of the boulder.

But Sakuya was running away. Back toward the Etxarren.

Mireille couldn't contain herself as she gasped, _"Bitch!"_

Riki had been watching too. _How could she just fight with me, then _leave_ me!_

Suddenly Kirika pinned her against a boulder. Riki immediately detached from her, and rolled out of the way across the boulder, during which she smacked Kirika in the nose. She ran for her fallen gun, charging blindly through a throw of sand and pebbles from Mireille's gunfire—and dove.

She rolled. Grabbed her gun. And did a one-handed handstand. Hand flat against the ground, the other hand firing her gun. The bullet grazed Mireille on the side of her leg, just below her hip. She buckled to her knees and attempted to fire back, but the torn muscles were like a wolf biting into her flesh. One of her shots barely missed Riki, who dropped into a smooth, soundless roll from her handstand and continued to run back to Etxarren.

"Makes you regret the handstands now, doesn't it?" said Kirika, inspecting the red gash in Mireille's jeans. "Can you walk?"

Her friend leaned a hand against the rock, dragging her leg while hopping on the other. She winced, unable to apply too much pressure.

"Just like we taught them, right?" hissed Mireille, face knotted in discomfort.

"Embrace it, Mireille—that they're getting better, that they'll be the next Noir."

The blonde cocked her gun, smirking. "Geez, Kirika, the battle's not over yet."

Their advance toward Etxarren was slow and vigilant, especially with Mireille unable to cover ground that fast. She limped the whole way, roaring in agony or frustration, it was hard to tell. Despite their delayed approach—not seeing or knowing where the Three Saplings went and if they were actually in the Etxarren—they were grateful it won them time to recover, and for Mireille to catch her breath.

With the Etxarren in sight but still so far, they stopped and listened. No gunfire or angsty teenager rants. Just the mountain song of birds and wind.

When they looked to the windows for any sign of movement, they raised their eyebrows.

Kirika craned her neck. "Is . . . that our bathroom towel?"

Mireille growled in annoyance. "Split up," she ordered.

"But your leg—."

"I think we've been through worse," chuckled Mireille. "I'll slink around from the back, you advance and keep them distracted. We'll close in on them from both sides."

"You know it could be a trap."

"Definitely. But I'm done with waiting it out. We didn't teach them to cower in the shadows, we taught them to _fight_."

Kirika shook her head as if to correct Mireille. "That's Noir in the shadows for ya."

…

The absence of gunfire as she drew closer to Etxarren reassured Kirika to lower her gun. She stared at the front door. It was slightly ajar. How eerie and unlike the children. But she sucked in a great amount of air and walked in, slowly creaking the door apart to slip through. Gun parallel to her face, she tiptoed inside, and was confounded by the mess that greeted her.

Although big-looking from the outside, their home had the smaller-than-average living room. That gigantic dining table that took up the center of it had been tipped over, the surface facing Kirika. The two woven, wiry chairs in the corner to the left of the entrance were sandwiched together, also tilted and draped. The tall wooden cabinet had been dragged from its corner, as if to make space for anyone hiding behind it. The love seat remained on its feet, but it blocked the doorway to the small kitchen. Nowhere to be seen, the wide chest that had been in front of the love seat. And the fireplace, just barely lit.

And at every doorframe, a blanket or sheet hung. So she couldn't see into the room behind them, but they could still see her approaching shadow. It didn't make much sense, but she reckoned whatever eased the first-timers' nerves.

Kirika was glad Mireille wasn't here; her partner tended to be more forward and noisy in her stealth. With all these boogie-traps, blockades, and sound alarms, Kirika couldn't afford to give them the slightest hint that she was alone, that Mireille was coming in from somewhere else.

The silence didn't enable Kirika to relax, only question. She knew better, that any slight sound would give away her exact location in these confined quarters. Wherever the Saplings were hiding, they'd know exactly where she was.

She scanned the windows. They were covered with just as she thought, all their towels or washcloths. Whatever kept Noir from peering inside Etxarren but allowed the Saplings to watch their moves.

And the hanging silverware tapping against the windows. Sound alarms, in case Noir tried to sneak through the windows.

_So . . . paranoid,_ she thought. Nothing but obstacles getting in the way, even for the Saplings. She assumed that was the point, though—a maze of guesses and traps and alarms. How long and stressful and aggravating it must have been to put this all together.

Kirika pasted herself against the wall of the living room, peeking into the kitchen. _Just one room at a time._ She saw their small kitchen pots and pans hanging on the windows inside. But no sign of anyone here . . .

She thought of a blueprint of the house: a living room, a connecting kitchen to the stairs, and a small bathroom between the two bedrooms. So, all that was really left was upstairs.

…

Mireille remained glued to the outside wall, crouching under the first-floor windows. She was frustrated not being able to look into the house thanks to the fabric blocking her view, so she had tried to open them. When she had heard things crash to the floor, she bolted for the other side of Etxarren. Over there, she was cautious of the board sticking out from the exterior wall. She noted the girls had the nerve to use some of her clothes for cover over the bedside tables positioned on the board, and made a mental note of that.

She aimed her gun up at the erected board as she passed underneath it and made way to the back of the boulder. She started climbing its arching spine, with the help of useful crevices and shapely rocks for handholds and grip. Once at the top, she army-crawled the uniquely rough surface to get a bird's eye view on the matter.

And standing there on the smooth, pale roof was Sakuya.

Mireille stood up and aimed her gun. She called out to her: "Enough toying with us. Either you're with us, or you're not."

Sakuya turned around, without the slightest shock. "Sorry," she said, smiling weakly, "I've been ordered to not engage."

"I don't like hearing about your superiors but never getting to learn anything about them. Start talking."

"I mean, the other two told me not," said Sakuya. "Speaking of which, aren't you in the middle of testing them? My main concern right now would be them, not me."

"Kirika has the reins. Now that you and I have some privacy, we can finally get to know each other."

"If you want to chat, come join me. We can sit here on the roof while they work it out."

Mireille kept her gun trained on Sakuya while she slowly felt her way around. The sheer from the top of the boulder to the roof was risky. Closer to the edge of the boulder, she found easier footing and climbed down, then jumped off to ensure Sakuya didn't use that as a chance to move.

As she inched forward, gun drawn on the Third, Mireille asked, "So. Tell me some things. First, do you know anything about a stone hut across the lake?"

Sakuya's face fell. Then, it lit up. "Oh yeah—_yeah_. Well, sort of. I _mean_, living-in-the-hut part." Her posture relaxed as she shifted weight into one foot. "Sometimes after helping with training, I'd sleep in that hut if I was too tired to go home."

"Why didn't you tell us about it?" snapped Mireille.

"I didn't think it was a big deal—plus, I've only used it occasionally. It's not actually mine or anything."

"What do you mean by that? Have you been sharing with the enemy?"

"Ewe, no. What I mean is, it's been there for a while, too. Like the Etxarren. I'm just guessing it's a Basque thing—or some shepard thing, or something." Sakuya shrugged. "I don't know."

Mireille didn't believe her, but she didn't want to forget what her next question was. "When you say 'home', where is that exactly?" She stepped a little closer.

"Actually, you'll get to see it soon." Sakuya smiled, but almost reluctantly, as if she wasn't sure if she was allowed to.

Mireille narrowed her eyes. "You see, I hate that. Your smile. Your nonchalance. The previous Third smiled like that, but at least it was genuinely eerie. I knew right away not to trust her. But you . . . you're such a sweet girl, I can't tell whether to trust you or not."

Sakuya sighed in defeat. "Well, I don't blame you. You have every right not to trust anyone but your own. You protect your own, and I respect you for that." She paused, and a grin slowly creased her lips. "Wait, did you actually _know_ the previous Third—?"

There was crumbling and chaffing. Mireille looked around. Sakuya's whole aura switched gears as she beamed victoriously, and ducked. From behind her, something dark lurched out of the chimney with a battlecry. It was almost demonlike, that Mireille stumbled backwards, discombobulated. She gasped out to the searing pain in her leg and collapsed to the ground.

"When's the last time you had a gun pressed against _your_ chest?" scoffed Riki.

…..

Kirika lifted the blanket hanging in the doorway, and peeked through the kitchen to the staircase. No one. She took her time walking to the bottom of the stairs, and looked up. There, at the top, was the missing chest from in front of the love seat.

She eyed it suspiciously. Hesitated to step onto the creaking staircase. Like it was a murderer awaiting her arrival. Any second, someone behind the chest could send it crashing down at her. Or fire at her at the same time, however they see fit. What an intriguing tactic: attack and defend at the same time. Without wasting ammo.

She couldn't afford her last round of bullets, either. So she started running up the stairs, hoping a single shot right through the chest would be enough, but wouldn't hit anything vital.

However, she reached the top. Nothing had moved, no one had fired at her, she didn't get knocked down. Her adrenaline spiked as she crouched, aiming at the bathroom, then the two bedrooms across from each other. She crept toward the opened bathroom and parted the shower curtains of the bathtub. Again, no one. She then made her way to the girls' bedrooms. She saw the fortification of beds and drawers, but no one shot at her. In the master bedroom where she and Mireille slept, no one was in or behind their wardrobe, or their queen-sized bed, or their closet.

Kirika heard voices on the roof. She rushed down the stairs now knowing no one was in the house, yet anticipated the Saplings at the entrance or by the windows . . .

All that fortification—just to psyche them, have them charge in with guns blazing, just to get the two of them inside with nowhere to run! Right where they wanted them!

Except Mireille wasn't with her. She had to warn her not come inside no matter how tight her situation got outside . . .

Voices again, this time hallow. Kirika stopped by the fireplace. They were coming from the rooftop, audible through the chimney. With her foot, Kirika stomped out the dying fire to listen and see if it was the Saplings. She leaned into the throat of the chimney. She recognized Mireille's voice, then Sakuya's. And Riki's!

Kirika couldn't help but worry. This "test" thrown unto them had been impulsive, thanks to Riki. She and Mireille had never discussed what to do when faced with the Saplings. Did Mireille expect her to shoot at the Saplings, or that Mireille's capture would mean both their surrenders? Or did Kirika have to be cornered, too, for this mock battle to end?

But as Kirika turned to rush to the exit, she heard scratching, followed by a thud. She turned around in time to see a body roll out of the fireplace—then, a gun set on her.

"Game over, Kirika," said Audriane. "We're going to Laguardia."


	22. Chapter 22: Sentiments

Chapter 22

Sentiments

"I don't see how you can even call that 'fighting'!" said Mireille, wincing once more as Stefan stitched up her flesh wound.

"How could you not?" argued Riki. "I'm the one that chased you and took you _both_ on—I'm the one who shot you! Fought you! A.K.A. kicked your pretty polished ass!"

"As assassins for hire, you do not have that luxury to make such elaborate plans. _Really_, fortifications, sound alarms, waiting around—destroying our home—?"

"Stay still, Ms. Bouquet," grunted Stefan, who had Kirika restrain Mireille's legs by the ankles.

"You said nothing about rules against using our _brains_—!" shouted Riki.

"There is no time for thinking, just acting. Not reacting, _acting_! Take them down before more reinforcements arrive, don't give them time to surround you."

"It was either you run into our trap, or us running after you into yours!" said Riki.

"Mireille," interrupted Kirika, "it doesn't matter how they did it. They did it."

"Without wasting ammo," added Audriane, who was just as fed up with Mireille's rampage as everyone else. "Without killing anyone. We kept it simple, and clean."

Before Mireille could object, Kirika asked, "So that was your plan all along? Draw us into the Etxarren, confuse us out with all the fortification, make us believe it was all a façade, wait for someone to douse out the fireplace to signal when to attack, then—roll out the fireplace?"

"Ho, ho, ho," said Riki, half-heartily.

Kirika smiled at the chimney tactic. "It must have been exhausting to stay wedged in there."

"Actually, perfect fit," said Audriane. "With all our training, we strong enough to squat there. To hold so long."

"Nothing but muscle," boasted Riki, yet she didn't keep her burning glare off Mireille.

"And the Third was just there to piss me off, nothing else," sighed Mireille, not even bothering to acknowledge the Third, who lingered behind with the two Knights that came along with Stefan. It certainly didn't lessen Mireille's pique.

"It's not Sakuya's fault that you're blind with irrational rage," said Riki.

"_I'm_ not the blind one," began Mireille. "It's not like I haven't noticed how close you two have been getting—."

"Ok, THAT'S IT," blurted Sakuya, walking toward Mireille, knife shining across the air like a silver dash. At the same time, Mireille gladly met her half-way, gun raised—except she stumbled, down to one knee, crying out to the tug of Stefan's incomplete stitches. In fact, it tore. Terrified, Kirika pulled her back while Riki and Audriane intercepted both women.

Even Riki flinched sympathetically at the opening in Mireille's leg. She turned to Sakuya. "Ok, seconds ago it was fine to rage—but now it _isn't_ the time . . ."

Her sudden change of mood made Sakuya more strident. "No, I'm done holding back! I've done nothing but _smile_ while taking the name-calling, the condescendence. I'm sick of you all treating me like I'm some walking disease, like I'm not even human! I came from the same high school as Riki and Audriane. I was a student, too—_human_. So very _sorry_ that someone else got to me first, didn't know that was inconvenient to you. How inconsiderate of me—!"

"Hey, hey, you're right," consoled Riki, giving her an understanding but stern nod. "You're _right_." She turned to everyone else. "With Sakuya's help, we've progressed. No offense intended. With that said, I think it's about time the _three_ of us were rewarded, with some sort of level of praise, or recognition, or—?"

_"Laguardia?"_ finished Audriane.

"Can we discuss this later?" began Kirika, slightly baffled by their inconsideration of Mireille's condition.

But the Corsican interrupted, "NO, let them vent." Kirika knew Mireille only wanted to feed off the indignation.

Sakuya pointed at each of them, starting with Mireille. "I'm a good fighter, I'm a 'Third', and, lucky for you, a _nice_ Third—not some centuries-old psycho reaper. I actually happen to want to _befriend_ my own classmates, ok? And you, Kirika. Stop letting Mireille bully everyone around—that includes you. Speak up. _Audriane_, I know you're desperate to get better, and you make up for it by being fierce and protective of Riki, and I completely understand that, but it doesn't give you the right to judge me. We're not in high school, and I _hate_ saying that. So please. Can we all get along, now?"

It was as if cotton plugged their ears, the silence so palpable. The petulance, grating against their hearts. Stefan took advantage of this, clearing his throat nervously as he finished sewing up Mirelle's gash and told her to watch it closely. She was too livid to feel it or care. Meanwhile, Kirika saw how fraught Sakuya became—rigid, and almost pouty, like any other teenager. It was just a glimpse of it, though. She didn't forget how well Sakuya moved, so she didn't know how to feel.

_Get along?_ thought Audriane, shocked by two Saplings' misconceptions.

Audriane murmured, "No . . . NO_._ We can't. You said so yourself when we first met—that it wasn't that simple. I wish so. But Riki and I got into this mess together, and we get out of it together. I'm sorry, but if I get to know you, l understand you, and it harder to kill you."

Riki put a hand on Audriane's shoulder. "Hey, hey, hey," she began, "that's not who we are. We just proved to Mireille and Kirika that we could end a battle without any serious damage. We can end these Trials our way, not the Soldats'. We won't become one of them. We won't kill each other _for_ them."

Audriane strained with emotion. "But does Sakuya agree with that?" She searched Riki's eyes for any sign of resistance, hesitation, devotion, to whomever it was.

"Well that escalated quickly," said Mireille, who had clearly calmed down, entertained by the tirade. "Gives you an idea of what you look like when you're hot-headed. Doesn't it?"

Riki pointed to herself. "Who, me?"

Mireille continued without answering. "Listen to your partner. For now, you're just gonna have to trust her. We can't loiter in self-delusion that everyone can just walk away from this as best friends. It's going to get messy, and people _will_ get hurt. Sacrifices have to be made, we just don't know what we will lose along the way. And _that_, you must be ready for, too."

Riki glowered. "Didn't you say one can only be 'ready enough'?"

"You remembered." A tad of praise.

"I also remembered to . . . save the hatred for the enemy."

Again, there it was. That familiar feeling Mireille and Kirika had felt now and then. Where have they felt it before?

Riki started to walk away. "Well, if we're 'ready enough', then I guess, onward to Laguardia—."

"No," said Mireille, standing up but staggering.

Riki eyed her limp, and released an empty laugh. "Ok." She started toward Stefan, with Sakuya walking alongside.

But when Audriane followed, Riki stopped her.

"Look. Audriane." She sighed. "We're all angry. I think it's best if you stay away. I can't have you and Sakuya near each other until this heat passes."

Audriane's face had been so sore from all that disapproving frowning, that it worsened when Riki said that. She couldn't say anything, though.

"Please understand, Audriane. From friend to friend, right?"

"'After everything we went through? Of course'," quoted Audriane, feeling a whirlwind of emotions.

"Please do this for me. Learn to trust me—and that means trusting Sakuya."

Audriane fell silent. She forced a faint nod.

"Everything's going to be fine; I know you're scared. But we're the Three Saplings! Let's keep it that way." Riki nudged Audriane in the arm. "Look, I know what you're thinking. That I've been a hypocrite, I've done the same thing you're doing right now: being mistrustful, rebellious, agitating, unpredictable. But you said we have to work together—and you know that's gonna include Sakuya. Please, it's all I will ever ask."

Audriane couldn't believe it took Sakuya to bring out this more reasonable side of Riki. She couldn't tell if it was a miracle . . . or worse.

She said nothing, and Riki didn't know what else to say, so she and Sakuya merged toward Stefan. He leaned against the very first car they had seen for who knows how long—the first one the Soldats ever bothered to show up in, proving that indeed, there had to been civilization a driving distance away. Made them wonder where Shirihime has been this whole time.

Mireille and Kirika watched from afar, eyes trailing Audriane as she finally entered Etxarren.

Kirika linked arms with Mireille to support her. "Don't fight it."

"I'm fine," growled Mireille, glaring after Riki, "but _her_, on the other hand—!"

"Don't fight it," repeated Kirika. "You can't stop them. You . . . can't protect them, Mireille."

Kirika saw something soften in her friend. It was gone, though, like watching light shift in water before it hardened to a cooler blue-gray. They both watched Riki converse with Stefan rather brusquely, something about teaching them to drive, and him saying something about Laguardia not allowing cars anyway so what was the point.

Mireille murmured, "They can't _ever_ believe that anyone will save them."

Kirika nodded. "So stop trying to protect them from what's out there."

"I'm not."

Kirika knew the real answer, though.

….

Riki remembered Mireille mentioning something about a stone hut, so she had Sakuya show it to her. She found it hysterical that professionals like Mireille and Kirika hadn't noticed it before, but then again, neither she nor Audriane really examined this far side. She felt around the boulder all the way to the door, and stopped. Turned to Sakuya, tried to read her.

"Do you think we made a good team? Against Mireille and Kirika?" she asked.

Sakuya smiled. "I know so." Hesitation. "But then again, you and Audriane did well, too."

Riki frowned. "I'm sorry about that, by the way."

This time, Sakuya was illegible. Everyone's warnings about her clouded Riki's mind, made it hard to think. Made looking at Sakuya, who didn't receive a scratch or bruise—at least not any new ones—harder to look at. Made her wonder what Sakuya went through to get this good. And why she was still here, not over _there_.

"Tell me the truth," said Riki. "Why are you really here? Helping us? After attacking us that time?"

Reticent.

"I was here to kill you," said Sakuya, wrestling with her words, "but like I said, I didn't know it was you."

"But now that you do, you still plan on killing us?" Riki dove into Sakuya's eyes, pushing against the solid blue wall in them that fought back.

"I don't want to," said Sakuya.

It was not a comforting answer at all. Her words were like a dent in Riki's heart.

Without thinking, Riki grabbed her hand. Both girls tensed, yet with ambivalence.

"What are you doing?" asked Sakuya.

Riki withdrew her hand. "Glad you don't have killer reflexes."

"You did that to see if I'd kill you?"

"But you didn't. So that's a relief."

"Why?"

"What do you mean why? Because I don't wanna see anything happen to you."

Sakuya looked like she was trying to decide whether to smile or not. "This is nothing against your ego, but . . . you're worried about _me_? Why?"

"Why else?" snapped Riki. "Don't ask a stupid question when the answer is obvious! Is it that much of a surprise that I actually have feelings?" Sakuya chuckled, but Riki cut her off. "No, seriously! I just don't want to see anything happen to _any_ of us! Because all of this is wrong!" She looked like she was going to grab Sakuya's shoulders, but her hands jerked back—trembled—as if shackled. "I didn't trust my own trainers, I didn't pity their situation over ours because they were just as part of this as the Soldats are. And so are _you_! But dammit, you're a good person, and I hate that—because it makes it harder to hate you, to just say, 'Hell yeah, I'll kill some classmates!' You're no different!"

Sakuya recoiled, not sure how to react to such accusation.

"You are no different," said Riki, "if you continue to hesitate on making the right choice. And that is, to not play their games. Train with us—_fight_ with us, and we can end this together! Us against them, remember?"

Sakuya was wordless.

Riki threw her hands up. "What's wrong? THAT, right there! That face! Why do you make that face? What's out there that's preventing you from joining our cause? C'mon, tell me how you feel—_I'm_ telling you how I feel—I mean, _what?_—did you forget what emotions are? You're so powerful and high-mighty that you forgot that there are some us _beneath_ you that feel helpless? Suffocated? Confused, angry, hurt? Desperate? How the hell did Ojiru end up falling in love with a corpse like _you_!"

Sakuya's nebulous eyes turned from hard to wet and shining. Riki cared, but didn't. Because it wasn't about what they lost, it was about whatever Sakuya had right _now_—whatever stood between Riki and her.

Riki repeated, "Why won't you join us?"

"In what?" whispered Sakuya. "Taking on the Soldats? You don't understand who they are, what you're up against."

"I won't unless you explain to me."

"I'm _trying_ to," pleaded Sakuya. "They're worse than the mafia, Riki. They have connections _everywhere_. You don't know what you're up against."

"And _they_ don't know what they're up against!"

"What, you've got a plan? You think you can take them? At least _I'm_ not misled in confidence like that, like you." Sakuya exhaled, smoothing back her hair behind her ears in thought. "Riki, if you think you're the first one to rebel against the Soldats, you're wrong."

"What does that even mean?"

"I'm suggesting you look it up. I _mean_ it, look it up."

"_You_ know things, I know you do," said Riki, giving her a look. "Why not tell me now?"

"There isn't anything to know about them. It's simple—the Soldats are to not be taken lightly. Besides, I'm not going to hold your hand through everything, like I said." Sakuya raised an eyebrow, as if to make a point. "You and Audriane are a team. You need to learn on your own, figure things out yourself."

"So you've got everything figured out, is that way you're saying?" Sarcasm.

Sakuya's laugh was full of venom. "What's with you taking everything personally? You're a running muck of emotions. When you need to think, _instead_, you act on what you feel. Don't let emotions consume you."

"If people are trying to kill me and those I care about, of COURSE I'm going to take it personally!" shouted Riki. "And you're one to talk, you and your cool demeanor—yet you're hiding something! You've got something to protect and you won't tell me! _Me_, out of everyone here! In fact, I don't even understand why you're here if you say that the Soldats are so bad. Couldn't they punish you for being here? So why? What are you doing here?"

"Maybe I don't want to see anything happen to you either!" burst Sakuya.

Riki felt hot. She couldn't tell why, though.

"There. See, was that so hard?" said Riki. "I care about you, you care about me. It's only human, right? So, anything else you want to get off your chest? If we're going to continue working together—and that includes Audriane, my partner—we can't let feelings locked in or they'll build up and will explode like . . . well, an explosion."

Riki snorted at herself, her smile feeble. She was relieved that Sakuya, even though she didn't laugh, had that soft look in her eyes as she shook her head and raised her eyebrows. However, she said nothing. Stumped, Riki shook her head, and walked away.

She could hear Sakuya flaring through her nostrils behind her. "Well . . . do you at least want to see what's inside the hut?"

"It's just a pile of rocks," said Riki, her voice faded as she continued toward Etxarren.

When she felt a hand tug her wrist, Riki spun around, only to freeze in captivation, by eyes she admired, so close . . .

"Look," said Sakuya, "I know I said I wouldn't hold your hand through every little thing . . ." She slowly pulled Riki back toward the hut. "But I _will_ show you this, even if you'll tug and squirm, being pissed and all."

Riki followed, loving this very moment, but hating that even in her seething mood, she would listen to anything Sakuya said.

"You'll want to see this," said Sakuya, pushing the door open.

….

Stefan and his two Knights helped rearrange all the furniture in the Etxarren. At first, Mireille refused to let them go anywhere inside, suspecting he was going to take notes of their training and relay it to Shirihime. He said she was right, but nonetheless, convinced her it'd be fun for her to order them around. Kirika and Audriane agreed, finding it would let her vent after all that controversy.

Not too far into the cleanup, Riki and Sakuya joined them. Audriane smiled pathetically at Sakuya as a way to apologize, who nodded curtly, then focused on helping Stefan putting all silverware and pots and pans back.

"I saw that," said Mireille.

"What?" asked Audriane. "By the way, help me make the bed—?"

"You tore this place apart, you can do it yourself." Mireille switched from cleaning to packing, for Laguardia. "Anyway, I saw you kiss up to that Third. Why?"

Audriane looked to the bedroom door and saw that no one else was nearby. "I don't think she a bad person," she murmured. "Really, I don't. She's sweet. Maybe that's why I hate her—because it makes it harder to want to kill her. I never wanted to, either. But I know I have to. It's no one's fault."

"She seems set on what she has to do," muttered Mireille.

"Huh?"

"Meaning, it seems like she's just part of the Soldats' plans as anyone else."

"You're no different," said Audriane, feeling a sudden slash of anger. This silenced Mireille, who continued to rummage through her wardrobe. "Look. I don't trust her, but . . . I don't want to upset Riki either. I can make it work."

"That's awfully mature of you. Ya know, knowing your history with Riki . . ."

Audriane paused, a smile tugging at her. "Didn't . . . Kirika say that you weren't so nice to her at first, either?"

Mireille turned, hand on her hip, scowling Audriane's back as the freshman made their master bed. But she sighed, and turned around without further argument.

"What's with that?" pondered Audriane. "Why do we pursue someone who looks the other way—who doesn't notice us, who doesn't appreciate us, who doesn't need us?"

"You're asking the wrong person."

Both of them looked to the doorway. Kirika stood there, smiling. Ignoring her, Mireille went back to her business. Her partner stayed where she was, leaning into the doorframe, hands in her sweater. She closed her eyes nostalgically.

"I remember Mireille in the old days," began Kirika.

_"Still in my thirties,"_ said Mireille.

"I think," continued Kirika. "I think . . . it's all about being _the one_. Our selfish ambition to be the one who can breaks their fortress. You want to be the only person they let in. You want to be their everything, because they're your everything. Like unlocking a secret. The treasure's yours, and only yours."

Mireille leaned against the wall, as if exhausted already. She crossed her arms, eyes closed, but smiled. "Is that so?"

Kirika shrugged, but her eyes glowed.

"I suppose that's how it is with Riki, the way she looks at Sakuya," said Mireille, looking at Audriane.

"Not . . . like _philia_," said Audriane inaudibly.

"Hm?"

Should Audriane say something she couldn't prove? "Philia," she declared, "meaning love. A term usually translated as 'friendship' or 'affection'."

"So what are you saying?"

Audriane said nothing. Noir didn't know what it was but it clearly bothered Audriane, so Mireille slightly deflected it to herself.

"If it makes you feel any better, I know how you feel. Your jealousy of Riki's devotion to the Third. When you go through something, _anything_, with that one person, you don't want to lose them. They're all you've got." Mireille did whatever it took to not look Kirika in the eye. They didn't talk about Chloe much.

"I think she's just trying to win her trust and devotion," said Kirika. "So she doesn't have to kill her. She wants to bring her to our side. Makes you wonder who her superiors are."

"We'll get those answers, finally," said Audriane, trying to hype herself. "In Laguardia."

"Makes you appreciate technology, doesn't it?" said Mireille, who went back to rummaging through her drawers. Watching her, Audriane wondered how long they were going to be in Laguardia, if they were ever coming back to Etxarren.

Audriane teased her. "You excited?"

"I suppose I am," said Mireille. "I could use a spa or some room service. Or even a big fat burger." She impatiently tossed makeup into her white-striped pink purse, but when she missed, she tried to catch her falling mascara, only to knock her purse to the floor. Things clattered and scattered, strewn in the corners, under the drawer, the wardrobe, the bed; brushes, a pocket mirror, packaged tissue paper, coins, cash, even Mireille's gun.

As Audriane helped, she lay on her stomach to put her hand under the bed to make sure nothing went under.

She felt something cool and round, and dragged it out. "Oh wow, a pocketwatch," she declared. "So pretty. So . . . old."

She revealed it to the others, not realizing how quiet it got as she turned it in her hands. With a finger, she felt the ornate lid, which depicted two partially nude women in loose Greek-style robes, facing each other with swords held high.

"Huh," she said cheerfully, "looks like you had to replace the chain with a new one. Greek or something?" She looked to the older women for an answer, who only shrugged. "I bet we could get this fixed somewhere in Laguardia. Where you get it?" She smiled at Mireille.

However, Riki and Sakuya strode in.

When Riki saw the partial mess, she chuckled. "And you said _we_ destroyed the place." She saw Audriane holding the pocketwatch. "What's that?"

"Ooh, me too," said Sakuya innocently, as they both crowded around Audriane.

"It was a gift from my father," blurted Mireille, joining them as casually as she could. Kirika could tell she didn't want to arouse questions—that despite everything they've overcome, that pocketwatch was still a trigger to their post-traumatic stress.

"Awe, how sweet," said Sakuya.

Mireille's heart felt hot and cold at the same time, especially as the children opened it. The pocketwatch face was cracked, covered in scotch tape.

They only got to gaze at it for a mere few seconds before Mireille extended her hand. As casually as she could. Audriane gingerly returned it, and watched the Corsican stuff it away into her purse.

"Well," said Mireille, "we're almost done cleaning up. Then, pack quickly. Stefan offered to take us to Laguardia."

"That's a first," said Kirika.

"What was the point of cleaning? We're not coming back to this rubble, are we?" asked Riki.

Audriane nudged her. "You have to admit, it's like home."

Riki made a face, and said, _"Temporary."_ Both Sakuya and Audriane looked at her.

"Trust me," said Sakuya, "what you're about to face in Lagaurdia will make you appreciate the isolated beauty you have here." To Audriane, at least they both had one thing in common: the admiration for the mountains.

Mireille faked a wide smile. "What's in Laguardia, Sakuya?"

The sophomore raised her eyebrows. "At least you called me by my real name. That's something—."

"What's in Laguardia, SAKUYA?" repeated Mireille.

"It's a historical beauty," said Sakuya. "Consider yourself privileged for touring such sacred grounds. _You'll_ see so for yourself, I'm not your babysitter."

Mireille looked to Riki. "Please. Tell me. You're not really thinking of . . . bringing her along with us?"

Riki grinned. "Who's the child now? Of course she is."

"No she's not," said Mireille.

"No I'm not," said Sakuya.

"Yes she—WHY?" protested Riki.

"Because this is your journey, not mine. Don't worry, you'll see me around," said Sakuya, trying to forge the strongest smile.

"And what you be doing?" asked Audriane.

Sakuya tried not to roll her eyes. "I've got my own problems."


	23. Chapter 23: Unfamiliar

Chapter 23

Unfamiliar

"So what's the first thing you're going to do when you get there?" asked Riki.

Audriane beamed excitedly. "Eat lots of ice-cream. You?"

"Watch lots of fucking TV."

"New clothes would be nice."

Riki paused. "I think I'll drink while I'm at it."

"You're under-aged!"

"I believe it was _you_ who said the world didn't care if we were children."

Audriane didn't resist. "You're right. I'll have some too."

Riki sniggered. "_You?_ Goodie-tooshies?"

"I was never an _angel_, if that's what you ever thought of me. And we're not children, we're teenagers! There's a difference!"

"In Spain, the drinking consumption age used to be sixteen," said Stefan, their chauffeur. "Now, it's eighteen."

"Same in France," added Mireille indifferently.

"But we're in the Cantabrians—part of the Pyrenees, right?" said Riki. "So, that puts us in the border between Spain and France. Which means . . . no one gives a shit."

She and Audriane chuckled.

"Why not," said Stefan, shrugging. "The Rioja wines are to die for. They can try out the wine bars all over the town."

Audriane beamed at Kirika sitting in between them. "What about you?"

"I'd like to explore," said Kirika thoughtfully.

"Chilling by the pool," added Riki. "Shopping. Eating real food for sure—hell, I could care less about the wine. I want real _food_."

"The Etxarren garden _was_ real food," interrupted Mireille. "Also—we should hit the library and the computers as soon as we can."

_"Booo!"_ blurted Riki. "Responsibilities and research? Booo!"

Mireille sank into the passenger's seat, muttering, "You're so immature."

"Because I want to have fun?" said Riki, bug-eyed. "You don't have to be a child to have fun. No one will give shit once we step in Laguardia—we're all going to relax, party, mingle. Learn to connect with the world again."

"It's gonna feel so weird, seeing people for the first time in a long time," murmured Audriane, eyes shining with anticipation. "But I can't wait."

"Thought you were princess of the forest," joked Riki.

"_Still_, human connection is important."

"Just remember to trust no one—," began Mireille.

"Boooo!" said Riki, prodding the back of Mireille's seat with her foot. "Boo, boo, boo!" _Squeak, squeak, squeak!_

The blonde scooted closer to her own window, as if for protection.

"Boo! C'mon, Audriane, say it with me," said Riki. "Boo!"

Audriane snuck a whisper into Mireille's ear closest to the window. "Booo!" She and Riki burst out laughing when Mireille slightly jumped in her seat. It didn't take Stefan much composure before he started laughing his own geeky, nasally note. Kirika giggled, too. The Corsican turned around, giving her wide eyes that said, _Seriously? _Her friend tried not to smile, then figured the best way to save her was by getting Mireille contribute to the conversation.

"What about you, Mireille?" asked Kirika.

"What _about_ me?" Her partner leaned against the window, ignoring them.

"What do you plan on doing when we get to Laguardia?"

Pause. "I suppose . . . a nice, long, hot, bubble bath."

Kirika smiled. "That sounds nice."

"See?" exclaimed Riki. "You want to have fun, too!"

Mireille sighed in defeat. "I suppose I could take this as a chance to get a massage. Get away from you."

"I don't blame ya," said Riki. "I'd want time alone away from you, too." She slapped her own thigh as if it was the first and only joke she'd heard for years.

Mireille glanced sideways at their chauffeur, a brunette, who was trying to suppress a grin as he focused on the road. Stefan was an awkward, yet sweet-looking man, with a small hawkish nose high above his thin mouth that always looked like a frown even with that relaxed expression; eyes small and squinty, and peruse, yet gentle, behind round glasses. A tuft of sweaty bangs stuck out in the middle of his large forehead due to his short haircut.

The Corsican looked in the side mirror back at the Soldat car following them, full of Stefan's guards dressed in civilian clothing to avoid attention wherever they went. Mireille looked back at Stefan, who met her glance.

"Ah Mireille, don't worry about them," he said.

Hearing a Soldat say her name was unusual. It didn't sound right from him, but it wasn't like poison either. Of all the strangers they had met, she noticed the children responded most positively to him. They didn't seem that threatened by his every now and then presence.

"Mireille?" repeated Stefan.

She decided to express her thoughts to him. "It's weird hearing a Soldat say my name."

"Well, it's your name, isn't it?"

Kirika perked up. "That which has a name exists."

"Very good!" said Stefan, tempted to look over his shoulders at Kirika.

"Are you Basque?" asked Kirika.

"She's been studying," announced Mireille.

"Just a bit," answered Stefan. "Not everyone in the Basque Country is fully Basque. They've mixed with the Spanish and the French over the centuries, and many others. One of their many ways to preserve their culture, to survive. Once, even their language was suppressed. Only Castillian was allowed. As you know, the Basque language is unlike any other—their blazing pride—so you can bet that was a difficult time for them under the rule of Francisco Franco. Supposedly, he was very close with Hitler, and a dictator himself, too . . ."

"And _Guernica_?" said Kirika.

"Yes, that was another horrid time for the Basques," said Stefan. "You should see the painting some time. It's in the Museo Nacional Centro de Arte Reina Sofia, Spain's national museum of 2oth-century art. In Madrid."

"We were in Madrid when we arrived in Spain," said Kirika, disappointed.

"All in time," said Stefan.

"We could go when this is all over," said Audriane cheerfully, as if to comfort Kirika.

But her words only snuffed out all sound, like fire from a candle. All they could hear was the rattling of the internal gears, the scraping and thumping of the road. As if to butter the mood, Riki snorted at Audriane's museum suggestion.

"Sounds like the Basques have been through quite a bit," said Mireille conversationally.

"Every country has its history," said Stefan.

"What's yours?"

The doctor hesitated. "It's boring. I've been with Sir Asher for quite some time."

"Which means you won't tell us anything about him, am I right?"

"Indubitably."

"You Soldats are all the same—Saplings, doctors, Sir's, henchmen, Shirihime's." Mireille sighed. "Well. Regardless, I suppose we all owe you our gratitude. For stitching us up, teaching us how to tend to our wounds. There's only so much Kirika and I know in the medical field."

Stefan gave an awkward smile. "Another point for the Soldat doctor."

"No shit, Stefan," said Riki. "You should consider yourself privileged, because _she_ never expresses gratitude so blatantly!"

"To be in high regards," said Stefan. "It's humbling, that Noir acknowledge my real name, my existence."

"Well, just because you are a likeable, honest doctor, doesn't change the fact that you're a Soldat," said Mireille. "Your straightforwardness probably gives us all the more reason to mistrust you." She smiled weakly, as if that had been something she _wished_ was a joke.

"Mood killer, ain't she?" said Riki, leaning back into her seat after all that time of hanging over the shoulder of Mireille's seat.

"I don't think so," said Stefan. "Because, as a matter of fact, we're here. Welcome to Laguardia."

Riki and Audriane practically suctioned themselves against their windows. Up ahead, the horizon seemed to speed toward them; the roofs of a town crowned. Around them, vineyards rolled by like live beasts jumping through ocean waves, in green strips or autumn-colored patches. The town looked like ruins lost in greenery, almost blended into the surrounding wheat-colored fields. But the closer they got, the more detailed it became. They saw the walls, the hotels, the churches, the houses, the cottages, the stores and restaurants—even a small castle—and sign of life in the streets. Behind Laguardia were the mountains, like a solid wall.

The children couldn't wait to dive into a new world—an old world. Of familiar people, architecture, and life.

"Like a kingdom!" awed Audriane.

"Looks cluttered," said Mireille. "A little claustrophobic. It'll be hard to make an escape if needed. Enemies could pour in from all sides."

"_Breathe_, Dutchess," said Riki. "It's better cover than the Etxarren. Sure, we were isolated and able to train in privacy without alarming people, but . . . we can hide in all of this. And while we do, let's enjoy it. While we can."

Audriane realized she'd have to get used to finding their new home among all those buildings. The Etxarren had been _simple_ . . .

"Where we stay?" asked Audriane.

"Somewhere rewarding," said Stefan.

…

"We are . . . _royalty_!" awed Audriane, looking up at a white hotel scaled in orange-tiled roofs.

Riki gaped. "Wow. My family traveled and stayed in nice hotels—but _this_?"

"You really were a spoiled thing," said Mireille.

For some reason, this angered yet embarrassed Riki altogether.

As they admired their new paradise, they were welcomed by a familiar voice that sank their hearts in their chests like anchors to the bottom of the sea.

"Welcome to the Villa de Laguardia Sercotel Hotel!"

It was Shirihime—walking down the regal black steps, which led to several archway entrances.

Riki folded her arms. "You're a sore sight for sore eyes."

"And you haven't changed," said Shirihime.

Mireille looked the woman in the eye. "Actually, if you ask me, she's matured since the last time you've seen her." She found a second to snap at two Soldats carrying her luggage up the stairs. "So, I suppose this grandeur is the last place our enemies would look for us?"

"With the aliases you've been using, yes," said Shirihime. She gestured to the entrance. "Welcome, Mona LaKasse and Kira Togane. I updated your IDs so they matched your current state. You two are best friends, who brought along your younger sisters Adele and Miku, also best friends. It's a cute, believable story if anyone asks."

She gave everyone their fake IDs and had them memorize them, before she escorted them to the main lobby. While the adults were checking in, showing their IDs for confirmation, Riki and Audriane snuck a glance at their own:

Riki's hair was shorter, yet layered. Audriane's was primped and curled slightly.

After check-in, Shirihime led them through the hotel.

"Does this mean we get hair cuts?" asked Riki, pointing excitedly at her ID.

Mirielle examined the children's photos. "How'd you do that?" she asked Shirihime.

The Soldat seemed proud. "The power of the Soldats. And technology."

"Wow, _technology_ did this to our ID's?" gasped Riki. "It looks so real! I guess that means we definitely have to get matching haircuts to the ones in these photos."

"It's like they never went to Etxarren," said an amused Kirika.

"Personally, I look forward to a new look," ranted Riki. "We've been mountain hobos far too long. Man, I wish I thought of this photo-manipulation when Ojiru wanted me to go that rave!"

The sudden mention of him made her think of Sakuya, and she fell silent. Lately, her image would pop up more, as if the high school memories had really been of her, not some boy crush.

"So, why the change of scenery?" blurted Audriane.

"Etxarren was the crucial part of the Trials that had to be far from civilization, so that there were no disturbance to the Saplings' growth," said Shirihime. "Now that they have finally proved themselves ready for tasks assigned by the Soldats, they have been brought here." Shirihime darkened. "As you've learned, there is a third faction out there. They probably sent those men to the school. And our sources tell us they're here in Laguardia, right now, looking for you."

"So the Trials . . . are over?" asked Audriane. "We now hire material?"

"They've only just begun," said Shirihime sternly.

Riki rolled her eyes. "Classic."

"Sir Asher needs your help in identifying and eliminating the enemy," said Shirihime. "He needed you to hone your skills before taking on a mission that concerns both your party and his."

"Bringing us here to a crowded location seems to only complicate things," said Kirika, discerning the countless tourists and hotel guests around them. "And the hotel is at least three miles from town. Being so far out here risks being surrounded, or putting lives at jeopardy out here. And with these vineyards as our backyard, it only gives enemies cover."

"It's ok, Kirika!" said Riki. "You taught us to adapt to our environment! We'll be _fine_ . . ."

Kirika stared at her. "But you just want to stay in this hotel," she said matter-of-factly.

"Yes. Yes I do," said Riki.

Kirika switched her attention back to Shirihime. "You should've put us in the center of the town, surrounded by people. That way we wouldn't have to walk back and forth, risking ambushes along the way."

"The hotel is heavily populated, offering you great protection. Also, there are transports to the old town. People are constantly taking them. The roads will be crowded and safe." Shirihime looked insulted. "I thought I'd give you a relaxing location after all your hard work."

"Didn't know the Soldats were . . . this rich," murmured Audriane, growing tentative.

"Or thoughtful," muttered Mireille.

"There's plenty you don't know about the Soldats," said Shirihime, sounding mystified herself. She led them past the luxurious indoor pool. Through glass windows, the kids saw violet or reddish fog swirl along the surface of the pool. The glass ceiling was a dome, almost mushroom-shaped; it too glowed random colors. Well-crafted branches were strung along the curving interior walls, metallic nozzles between them spouting water into the pool. A wide-open window revealed the outdoor pool.

"How's your leg?" asked Shirihime, looking at Mireille.

The blonde's response was delayed. "It's fine."

"Take this time to recover," said Shirihime. "In the mean time, I have the 'list' of people you need to check out."

"Does the hotel have internet?" asked Mireille.

"The only computers are the ones at the check-in desk."

"The last thing we need," interrupted Riki, glowering, "is you knocking the lobby people unconscious to gain access to their computers."

Mireille ignored her. "What about a library?"

"Downtown," said Shirihime.

"So much for your boast of technology."

"I figured your tasks would be more fun if you toured Laguardia altogether."

"Your benevolence is unparalleled."

They walked through a rather empty zen-like room adjacent to the pool, the ceiling tangled in wiry branches lit with firefly-sized bulbs. A small wall wrapped around a growing tree, which was in its own white cylinder.

After taking the elevator to the third floor, Shirihime zipped their cardkey and opened the door to their room.

The children rushed in, their hearts aflame from the warmth, the colors, the smell, and security of the room. Sunlight glowed from the window draped in large orange curtains; a flat-screen TV on a small drawer was to its right, with paper and folders on shelves underneath. The ceiling above was split and slanted wood, low to the floor, but only above the window. Vanilla lamps and desks everywhere. Sandy-colored walls. A red striped sofa. A tiled bathroom with a white Jacuzzi.

And a curtained Queen-sized bed right there—with tray of tea, bread, apples, orange juice, and peaches awaiting them.

The girls belly-flopped onto the bed, snacking right away.

Riki sucked on a slice of pear. "So where's the guest room?"

"This is it," said Shirihime.

"Wait, what?"

"The Soldats are looking for four women in a two-bed room," said Shirihime. "For your protection, I booked you into a one-room."

Mireille broke out in a small laugh.

"What! NO!" said Riki. "_You're _sleeping on the floor!"

"I think it'd make more sense if you shrimp children slept on the sofa," said Mireille.

"So you admit you're OLD—that you need all that space?"

"Seriously, don't start."

"C'mon, you could afford a double room!" Riki shot a look at the Soldat. "After all that time in that old house, I will not go down this easily! Book us a two-bed!"

As if to finalize her point, Riki plopped onto her back, folding her arms, chewing angrily. Audriane laid next to her, saying nothing, content in the soft grooves of the covers.

Kirika smiled at Mireille. "Let them enjoy it. We'll discuss bedding later tonight."

Behind them, Shirihime was already just about to close the door. "You have five days."

"Wait, what?" asked Riki, sitting back up.

"All that training wasn't to look cool," said Shirihime. "You have duties to fulfill. In five days, we expect results. When you're ready, call me, and we'll reconvene."

She closed the door.

…..

They never truly understood the meaning of paradise until going through hell.

Mireille humming in the steaming shower. Kirika flipping through magazines from the night-time stand. Audriane snoring on the bed. The simplicities of life, which they would cherish from here on out.

Riki made sure to remove the tray to the small kitchenette. She then looked at herself in the mirror of the sliding closet in the hallway of the front entrance.

Her black hair had grown out with unhealthy dead ends, and it was sticky from the usual muggy air. Her face, grimy and stained, toned and tan. She removed her thin sweater, and saw how her collarbone flexed at every movement, every swallow, every flinch. The muscles in her neck were like wires. Her shoulders, strong and round. Her stomach had always been flat—now it felt like rock as she pressed down. She couldn't resist from flexing her arms, watching how the muscles worked under her skin, never having felt so aware of the workings of her body until now.

She suddenly felt ridiculous flexing in front of the mirror. Riki slid open the closet to find their suitcases dumped there by the Soldat guards. Growling, she tugged them out until she found hers and Audriane's.

With a surprisingly effortless heave, she dumped the contents of Audriane's suitcase all over her friend on the bed. Even heavy things like that felt lighter. Her body movements felt more secure—not even that, but her mind was lighter, more . . . certain. She knew how to control things, knew how to move. It was a weird thing to note in every-day movements.

Her classmate remained still under the pile of clothes.

"She's exhausted," said Kirika from the sofa.

"Yeah, taking up the whole bed," said Riki.

"I don't blame her." Kirika walked over to the bed. "I'll help."

Together, they sorted and folded Riki's clothes.

"I noticed you looking at yourself in the mirror," said Kirika, giggling.

Riki blushed, but explained herself. "I haven't noticed the changes till now. I look and feel so different . . . not in the good way." She whispered more to avoid disturbing Audriane. "I thought I knew this world, knew myself—I thought I'd know how to act and feel once reunited with a world I was familiar with. It's so soft and warm and safe here . . . or is it? I thought it would feel the same. But as I look around, this _cold_ revelation sinks in; I can feel it on my skin. My body knows it's not the same—that nothing is."

Kirika said nothing. It wasn't often Riki spoke like this. Kirika wanted to get to know her for once, aside from the profile the Soldats handed over.

"I want to remember what it felt like," continued Riki. "That exact last moment before I knew this world."

"What moment?"

"It was a random moment . . . before the . . . school. When I was sitting there, glaring at Audriane for ratting me out to the teacher because I was texting. How _stupid_ she looked, wagging my phone in front of my face—like some self-righteous bitch. Man, I wanted to _throttle_ her. Anyway, I dunno why I think back to that." Riki snorted. Maybe because it seemed all so harmless, so ridiculous, so funny. Maybe . . . because her eyes changed after seeing this world for what it truly is."

Riki looked at Audriane's half-hidden face. "Yeah. Her eyes were never the same." She looked out the window at the duskfall. The murmurs of children laughing in the pool outside—what was once familiar—sounded strange.

"Have you ever had that feeling?" blurted Riki.

"Hm?" Kirika had been studying Audriane too.

"That 'before and after' feeling? Do you miss it, remembering what it felt like before a change in your life?" Riki's face lit up with wonder. "Who were you before all of this? What was your job?"

Kirika felt every fiber of her freeze up. She always knew Riki would ask questions, but not like this, so suddenly.

Kirika hesitated. "I . . . I dunno."

"You didn't have a moment?"

"I . . . don't remember."

"You didn't have a job before then?" Riki's confusion grew in her tone.

"I don't know."

"You . . . don't know, or you don't remember?"

"I don't remember."

"You don't remember your job?" Riki squinted, puzzled.

Kirika's expression changed drastically. It seemed so peaceful, then suddenly, crestfallen. It caused an uncomfortable silence, making Riki realize she struck a chord. She focused on organizing her clothes, then stuffed them into the drawer by the bed with the lamp and potted plant and Mireille's purse. She sat back down and repeated the process. It was like trying to flap a towel—waiting for the lingering dust in your eyes to settle, for the pain to go away.

All the while, she wondered if Audriane was listening or even awake, but her classmate snored softly.

It wasn't even ten minutes when Riki could no longer ignore the elephant in the room. "What did the Soldats do to you?" she whispered.

Kirika's silence was daunting. "Not what they did. What I did."

It certainly wasn't the answer Riki expected. She didn't know what to say, just nodded. And yet, when she happened to look over at Mireille's purse on the bedside drawer, she couldn't contain her curiosity.

"Does it have to do with that pocketwatch?" she asked.

Kirika froze. When Riki thought she had seriously damaged the woman, Kirika finally nodded. Barely.

"How'd you know?" murmured Kirika, voice hallow.

Riki hesitated. "The way Mireille said it was her father's. The way the room grew quiet. You two have always been so secretive from the get-go, that it's become . . . familiar."

Kirika smiled weakly. "Welcome to my world."


	24. Chapter 24: Laguardia

**Author's Note: **for downtown ambience, listen to Iblard Jikan's beautiful instrumental "The Multi-Layered World's Lovely Day". Not Basque, but kinda has that overall European feel. watch?v=Ku4zmLEdOXM&index=4&list=PLd63LSR1HeX0KCx8x90KiVV7gKKpX3PCm

Chapter 24

Laguardia

Waking up to dawn flooding a warm room—it was like a dream. Or, it was reality, waking up from a nightmare, they couldn't tell which. Whatever it was, they reveled in every moment. Even if it meant waking up, sharing the same bed. Or yelling at each other to get out of the hot shower they all now savored.

After a pleasantly slow morning—and Riki's vexation when she found out that Europeans eat a very late lunch—they ate brunch outside under red umbrellas, at basket chairs and tables, each table divided by vine-covered panels for privacy. They were privileged with Laguardia's encyclopedic menu of wine and gourmet: Riki and Audriane shared a ring of beautifully trimmed prosciutto, its inner circle of neatly placed lettuce leafs, crisscrossing biscuits, and thin layers of sharp provolone dappled with slices of mushroom. Mireille slurped without shame a bowl of carrot soup filled with diced steak and fat slices of sausage. Kirika kept to herself a bowl of pasta carbonara, shrimp, and slivers of steak peppered with basil.

Afterwards, the party took the hotel trolleys. They passed everlasting vineyards. The backdrop of Cantabrians seemed taller and solid than ever, overlooking the pools of water that collected from monthly rainfalls.

Entering the walls of Laguardia was like stepping into a forgotten kingdom. At any second, they expected unheard royalty to parade the streets to greet them.

And everything evil they've ever known was crushed flat. Riki and Audriane deliberately _forgot_ the terrors they saw; mentally pushed out the shadows slithering back into the corners of their mind; resisted the dark urge to lash out at the laughing strangers who strolled by oblivious to the kind of world they lived in. They would take in every color, every smile, every touch of sunlight on the lively streets—and accept everything around them desperately like a mother to her child.

Five days.

So much to see, so little time.

But first things first.

Riki leaned her elbow on Audriane's shoulder. "We're different people, now," she began.

"Different isn't bad, though," said Audriane, nodding. "Different is new—but change is good. We become something new."

"Something better," concurred Riki, grinning.

Before Mireille and Kirika knew it, the four of them hustled to the visitor's center. They got a map and brochure, and followed it to the closest hair salon. When Riki and Audriane turned a corner and vanished, they left behind a baffled Mireille and Kirika.

"All those days of bonding," said Mireille. She grabbed a map for herself and for Kirika. "You make sure they don't die on us, while I sweep the place."

Kirika frowned. "Mireille, you should enjoy this. You may never get it again."

"I would, but there are Soldats out there."

"Soldats are everywhere."

Mireille waved the subject off, tapping the map in Kirika's hand. "Follow them. Get a haircut yourself." She handed over a credit card.

"_You_ aren't getting one?"

"I can get one any day. You go on ahead, now."

….

"How about El Pablado de la Hoya?" suggested Audriane, reading the brochure.

"_Words_, Audriane," snapped Riki sitting next to her. When Audriane glared at her, Riki said, "Well, what's El Pablo de Hola?""

_"Hoya." _It was Audriane's stylist who answered.

Audriane mocked her partner. "_Spanish_, Riki."

Riki made a face; the hairstylist laughed, who then said, "How are you two ladies hanging in there? What are your names?"

"I'm R—." Riki stopped short when something kicked her. "Miku. And my friend here is Adele."

"Awe. My name is Cecilia, but call me Ceci."

"And I'm Tatiana," said Riki's stylist. "Where you girls from?"

"We . . . went to school together in Tokyo."

"Wow!" said Ceci. "Studying abroad or something?"

"Just . . . summer vacation with our sisters."

"How sweet. Hope you like Laguardia." _Snip, snip!_

Gears seemed to switch and crank inside Riki, as if trying to remember how to connect with other people as easily as talking to her own high school friends. It was consoling, nonetheless. Her heart fluttered with excitement, like a hummingbird trapped in a cage.

"It's definitely paradise compared to most places we've been to," said Riki. "We're still trying to figure out places to check out."

"Well, anyway, you mentioned El Poblado de la Hoya," said Ceci, separating strands of Riki's hair and clipping them off. "It's an archaeological site, an iconic Basque deposit founded in 1935—a Bronze Age settlement dating back to 3,500 years!"

"That's cool," said Audriane. "Let's go there!"

"How about not today? I still want to check out the rest of the town," said Riki. "What else is there, Ceci?"

"On the La Muralla, the Medieval Wall," said Ceci, "you'll see that the locals hang red peppers out to sun-dry. Then there's La Plaza de Mayor de Laguardia, the main square. Its Town Hall holds festivals like the Bagpipe one coming up, an event since the Middle Ages. There will be jugglers and musicians and lots of our favorite wine and food! And, the famous Town Hall clock, too."

Riki paused, realizing something. Tatiana had been speaking staggering English, but Ceci—she'd been speaking fluent Japanese this whole time that Riki didn't even notice.

"Your Japanese is _really_ good," she said, flabbergasted.

"It's a hobby I've picked up, learning different kinds of languages," said Ceci. "And with all the different kinds of tourists that pack this place, I got better. I like socializing. And gossiping. Think of the power you have here if you eavesdropped interesting things people thought you couldn't understand. People begin to respect you, value you. I could even give you the daily town gossip around here."

Thinking about it, Mireille and Kirika had to speak the children's native languages, or seldom English, to maintain their communication, to make them feel safe—while Riki refused to learn French.

Language. Yet another thing the girls took for granted.

"I won't forget that," said Riki, smiling.

"Well, don't _stress_ over it," said Ceci, laughing. "Not everyone can do everything. Don't let a stranger like me lecture you on how to live. I'm sure you girls are doing well in school."

The girls smiled faintly.

"What else is here?" asked Riki.

"Well, the wine, of course," said Ceci. "Our hamlet here is a wealth of vintage and cuisine. Even tiny hole-in-the-wall restaurants have fat _bibles_ of wine choices. I personally love me some Tempranillo and Mazuelo-based reds from La Rioja. But you should try our historic white wine based on the Viura grape. I'm sure your sisters could spare you on breaking some tiny moral code. How old are you girls anyway?"

"Almost eighteen," lied Audriane, just as Shirihime had them practice.

"Close enough! Well, come back and see us, let us know what you think of the wine."

The children looked at their reflections in front of them. Did all that hardship under the sun really make them look a little older? Regardless, they were certain Mireille and Kirika could care less whether they drank wine.

"Where are your sisters?" asked Ceci.

"Shopping," said Riki.

"They gonna pay for you?"

Hysterical silence; the children chuckled. "Whups, shoulda thought of that," said Riki.

"You sure rushed in here like there was _no_ _manana_ for haircuts," teased Ceci. "But no big deal! It's not like we're done yet. Sit and relax!"

"Wine sounds nice right about now," joked Audriane.

"It's an interesting idea for the hair salon," said Ceci. "Speaking of which, try _txikiteo_. Grab some _koadrila_ and scurry from bar to bar to try their wine and food. Stay as long as it takes in each one to try their _zurito_ or _pintxo_—no longer than fifteen minutes in a single spot—."

"Whoa, whoa—what?" asked Riki.

Audriane turned to her. "We did in France, too. You walk around with your friends from bar to bar, to pay little as possible for their best serves."

"There you go!" said Ceci.

"I'm sorry, but that was a lot of terms I don't know," said Riki.

"_Pintxo_ are Basque 'tapas', little morsels served on a slice of bread with a toothpick, one of the world's greatest snack cultures," said Ceci. "Just something for you to try since you're almost eighteen, trying drinks and all. By the way, Laguardia is known for our underground wine cellars. Be sure to make that part of your plans before leaving!"

"You bet we will," said Riki.

As their hairstylists redefined their looks, as the weight on their heads and shoulders lightened, Riki felt the burden of Noir drifting to the floor with every piece of hair.

…..

Kirika had arrived, requesting her own haircut. Riki and Audriane insisted she go for a new look, maybe even dye her hair a subtle color—but she stayed loyal to the same one when they first met her: dark and short above the shoulders, with one longer strand by her right ear. Ceci called upon herself to add a "spiky flair", to which Kirika didn't argue.

After paying, Kirika led them through the cramped, smoothly paved streets.

"Where's Mireille?" asked Riki.

"She claims she's looking around, but she's probably researching," said Kirika.

"What? Already! Without us!" Riki stopped herself short. "Wait, what do I care? Today's my vacation. And the next day. And the next."

Kirika gave her a thoughtful look. "I can't remember the last time you said her name—or if at all."

"Who? Mireille?" said Riki. "Well, how else are you supposed to know whom I'm talking about?"

"'Barbie', 'blonde', 'Dutchess'," listed Audriane, counting her fingers.

"Yeah, you're right," chortled Riki. "Anyway, are we going to go join her or is she gonna meet us somewhere?"

"Actually, I wanna keep looking around," said Kirika. "Mireille can do what she wants. When her mind is set on something, it's set."

Thrilled, Riki couldn't have agreed any more. "Alright then!"

"What should we do?" asked Audriane.

"Have fun. Explore," said Kirika.

Riki could barely contain herself. "Let's get new clothes. I know clothes are clothes, but they don't last forever. We've pretty much worn them out from Etxarren."

"Keep it practical," advised Kirika.

"If I'm gonna look and feel pretty and clean for once, I'll do it, even if it's for five days," pledged Riki, exchanging a casual high-five with Audriane.

Their street dipped into a hill. To their right, a staircase of potted plants traced down the winding corner. From there, the party continued to get delightfully lost in the narrow streets; some, from their point of view, seemed endless, no sight of intersections up ahead. People around them walked solo or in trios—no car could possibly wedge through without plowing over anyone. Windows, doors, and porches side-by-side, one after the other, on the sun-dried brick walls caked in a delicious orange-yellow. In hidden corners, streets were skinny enough that neighbors across from each other could reach over and touch each other's fingers. For fun, Riki and Audriane competed to jump and touch the small porches jutting from the buildings that were so low to the streets. The railings coiled in beautiful abstract shapes and patterns, and cascaded with all kinds of plants.

They entered every door without looking at its sign, not until they really liked the place. They wove in and out of gift shops, souvenir shops, wine bars, toy stores, bakeries, or puny restaurants that looked like they shouldn't fit in these crowded buildings. They judged each other's outfits in the fitting rooms, while Kirika cruised nearby stores. When they finally bothered to read the signs of their favorite stops, they circled the locations on their map.

They found Kirika leaning against a barren wall, no sign of a bench or chair on this particular street, an interesting characteristic of Laguardia.

"Hey, Kirika!" said Audriane. "Did you find anything interesting?"

Kirika smiled. "Art stores, pet stores, and antique shops."

"What were they called?" asked Riki, pulling out her map, ready to mark it.

"Um. I don't remember, sorry." Kirika shrugged meekly.

"Oh," said Riki. Something about her comment drove Audriane to hold her gaze, as if to telepathically ask what that look was about—but Riki was distracted, pointing behind them.

"Hey!"

They turned, seeing Mireille at a barrel covered with an ordinary tabletop. She was seated by a large Medieval archway framed with stone. A smaller door opened at its center, as a waiter walked through and settled a glass of wine in front of Mireille.

"Are you . . . eating a burger?" chortled Riki.

Mireille's voice was muffled in mid-bite. "Yeah?" She chewed and swallowed, glaring. "You got your fun; I got my fat burger."

They joined her after requesting the waiter for more chairs. They put their shopping bags down—craving for Mireille's veggie burger with melted cheese and bacon, and the side of hash browns and green jalapenos. At the same time, Mireille glared at their bags.

She slowly leaned forward. "Um . . . what's all of that?"

"You got to stroll; we got to shop till we dropped," mocked Riki, raising an eyebrow.

"How much were they?" said Mireille, her voice slightly increasing. When Riki and Audriane exchanged glances, she turned on Kirika. "How much _were_ they, Kirika?"

"Hold it, what do you care?" said Riki. "The Soldats are paying for . . . all of it . . . aren't they?"

"NO," said Mireille. "Now tell me how much they were!"

"Shit, sorry, I thought since the Soldats had been paying for us this whole time, that it included—that's _your_ money?"

Mireille stood up. "YES IT'S MY MONEY."

"Are you saying you can afford all this shit?" gasped Riki.

"What do you mean _me_? You're the culprit!"

"You really _are_ a Dutchess, then? How the hell—who are you really?"

"Stop, both of you," said Kirika.

The bickering softened as fast as it picked up. Mireille sat there brooding, Riki and Audriane judging her. Before anyone could even get comfortable in the oozing silence, Mireille burst at the kids again about "really not knowing their math"—but like all convenient timings, the waiter returned.

"Desserts?" he proffered, handing out menus.

Audriane gasped excitedly: "Ice-cream?"

Mireille snapped, "Would you like whip cream and sprinkles with that?"

The waiter smiled and awkwardly dismissed himself.

"That's enough," said Kirika. "They didn't know, Mireille. I'm the one who paid."

"Even if it was the Soldats' money, who would spend _that_ much on clothes?" said Mireille. "Seriously, that was your revenge plan against them? Drain them of their wealth? It has nothing to do with that."

"You're right," said Riki. "Having an insane amount of wealth on you has nothing to do with the Soldats."

Mireille grew frigid at the sarcasm. That wasn't conspicuous.

"Anyway," muttered Riki, fed up with secrets. "We got you and Kirika some stuff, too." She reached down to grab the shopping bags. "Not just clothes. Some perfume, and awesome shampoo and conditioner and bubble soap. You sounded really content in the Jacuzzi, so . . ."

Mireille held her wine but didn't drink it. "You do realize . . . that they're not _really_ gifts when you buy them with the recipient's money?"

"Just smell the damn soap."

Mireille unwrapped it. It was white and rocklike, with a real pinkish-white rose stuffed in the center. She sniffed it. There was a subtle crack in her grouchy frown.

"You have good taste . . . in this case, keen smell."

Riki grinned. "My friends in high school knew the best kinds, but to not have heard of this one . . .! The Desert Heartbloom. For the mega bubbles. Not bad for Laguardia."

"Not bad for Lagardia," murmured Mireille.

Audriane handed over a bag to Kirika. "You seem to like hoodies, so this striped one I thought you like. And new walking shoes and hiking shoes. I noticed yours tearing at the soles."

Kirika was gratefully shocked. "Thank you."

"Again, my money," grumbled Mireille, cheek against her palm. "Thank _me_."

"Believe me, we're all grateful for your sense of humor," said Riki. "We built a shrine and everything."

"I could say the same for you," said Mireille, defeated.

"Does it _hurt_ to smile?" said Riki, observing the woman. "We're not even the adults here, and yet we know how to smile, despite everything _you_ put us through. Ok, so I accidentally used your money to get you a gift—how was I supposed to know? I'm sorry, but we don't have money. You've been our caregivers from Day One."

Audriane suddenly pointed a finger at Mireille. "So smile!" She pounded the table like a drummer, and chanted, "Smi~le! Smi~le! Smi~le!" _Boom, boom, boom!_

Riki joined her. Then Kirika, who just smirked at Mireille when the blonde threw her a look. When Mireille squashed her face against her hand, looking away, they realized she was trying to hide a smirk. It was small and almost went unnoticed, but it was enough.

Moments later after Audriane ordered her dessert, the waiter returned with her Miroir chocolate. A thin chocolate slab jutted from in between a piece of caramel and a piece of fudge, which sat on a circle drawn with chocolate sauce. Sitting to the side was a small portion of vanilla ice-cream freckled with nuts. It was a small yet satisfying meal compared to the big square plate it sat on, sprinkled with breadcrumbs.

Riki was always the first person Audriane shared a meal with—so when she offered, Riki politely refused. She watched her partner give a spoonful to Mireille and Kirika, how their faces lit up to the delicacy. How normal the four of them looked, eating on a sunny day surrounded by cobblestone streets, people, real food.

_This_ was normal.

This was how it was supposed to be.

It could have been any other town or city. It could have been on the coast. In Tokyo. But it was here.

_Not bad, Laguardia._


	25. Chapter 25: Answers and Questions

Chapter 25

Answers and Questions

"So you weren't really looking around—you just wanted to enjoy a burger in private?" jeered Riki.

"Yeah," said Mireille absent-mindedly, as they walked to the library.

"Hey, no shame," said Riki, shrugging.

"I wasn't ashamed."

"Why we go to library now?" asked Audriane. "Why not enjoy the rest of our day?"

"Yeah, we have all these shopping bags," huffed Riki, readjusting the strap of three plastic bags over her shoulder, two more in her other hand.

"_That_ is not my fault," said Mireille. "Besides, I thought, why not get the research part over and done with? There's a lot to cover this week. We'll dig into this Sir Asher and what his faction's all about; then, this mysterious faction the Third is part of. And of course the third faction that is after us. There's so much we have yet to learn about the Soldats. As always."

Audriane thought about that last statement. How long have Mireille and Kirika been involved with the very people they obviously despise? And in what way?

"But what basis do we have?" mused Kirika. "We only met Asher once. We don't know anything about him or Shirihime. They have been careful as to not reveal anything about themselves to us."

"Well, then, we start from scratch," said Mireille, sighing.

"So far, so good," said Riki sarcastically.

"Kirika, wasn't there was a reason why you researched the Basques?" blurted Audriane. "Someone you knew?"

It was there in the middle of their walking that Kirika stopped in her tracks. They looked at her quizzically, all except Mireille, who didn't even turn around.

"I'm sorry, I hit a nerve?" said Audriane.

"It's fine," said Kirika, who continued to walk. "You're right. That's a good start. Mireille and I will start where I left off in my research. We'll look up about the Basques, their religion, origins, whatever it takes. Considering that Asher placed us in the Etxarren, a central Basque icon, I have come to surmise that _he_ may be Basque. I dunno why, it's just a hunch. As for you two, I think it's about time you learned the ways of trade. You gotta know how to look up blue prints, background info on your target, where to find more ammunition, where to find a secluded place for shooting practice . . ."

"That's right," added Mireille. "Just because you've improved, doesn't mean you slack. Keep up your training. If you don't, it disappears faster than you think."

Just listening to their mentors talk about being assassins sounded so ridiculous to Riki and Audriane; a weird casual conversation during a nice stroll through Laguardia. But at the same time, they have grown used to it. They just didn't think they'd already be talking about business on their first day of relaxation.

"So you expect us to just . . . wing it? Look for shit?" said Riki.

"We'll guide you, but we expect you to be able to do this on your own. After all," murmured Mireille, "we can't be there for you forever."

It was quiet, save for the laughter from the bars they passed.

"Right," said Audriane. "We'll look up blue prints and background information on our targets . . . wait, _who_?" She stared at her mentors. "Did Shirihime give you the 'list' already? When?"

"When I was eating lunch with her," said Mireille.

"You ate a burger with THAT WOMAN?" yelled Riki.

"Keep your voice down, we're not alone in the mountains anymore," growled Mireille. "Yes, I did. She gave me a list, and she expects us to finish it within five days. But it won't be the last time we see her, of course. I'm sure she'll drop in and out, 'grading' us, per usual."

"Well, are you gonna show it to us?" asked Riki.

Kirika looked at Mireille nervously, then back at the kids. "Um, not yet." Mireille was just as startled by her answer.

"Why not?" chorused the girls.

Kirika's reply was earnest. "Why would you want to see it so soon? I thought you wanted to relax a bit."

The suspense—the determination—on the teenagers' faces was gone, fading like light from a room. Kirika was right. They almost jumped into their first assassination as though it were a fun game. That darkness they've stowed away in the dusty corners of their hearts . . . it slowly escaped its chest, slowly spreading. They fought to keep it locked.

Mireille broke the mood. "Look, just remember that we're going to the library not just for a hit list. We're here because Shirihime thinks we're doing her bidding—when really, we're gonna use the little time we have here to look up as much as we can. That includes about _her_ and Asher. Right now, you two focus on the blue prints, the closest ride out of here, and what happened to the Third Sapling the day of the massacre."

The girls hadn't heard that word in a long time. It was a like a stake, digging slowly into their hearts, their guts. Noir knew this, and felt guilty.

"What for?" murmured Riki.

"The Third said she'd been reported 'missing'," said Mireille. "I'm sure the police have been looking for her, and for _you_. There must be something on the school's security footage that they missed. The trail may be cold, or it may not. We need to trace her disappearance to whoever took her. We need to know who exactly these people are, what their goal is."

"That a lot to think about. A lot of 'what if'," said Audriane.

"It is. So let's simplify things by finding the correct answers. Aren't you just as curious about how the Third Sapling came to be? Aren't you sick of not knowing anything about her?"

"A little . . ." said Riki, thinking about the last time they saw Sakuya.

"Meanwhile, finding out why she 'wasn't supposed to be the Third'," said Kirika.

"So," repeated Mireille, "Look up blue prints of the town, just in case we need to make a run for it, and—."

"We heard that there are underground wine cellars," said Riki.

"Good. Look that up as well. Also, find a train or plane out of here when shit hits the fan. And last, the Third—."

"Sakuya," growled Riki.

Mireille paused, and sighed. "Sakuya."

"Thank you."

…..

With computers scanty, they separated. Mireille and Kirika hit the bookshelves, ordering the girls to do the online researching once no one was sitting at the computers.

"Just like a research paper for school," said Audriane, stretching and intertwining her hands, cracking them.

"What's this—Audriane _boasting_?" said Riki, as they sat down at their own separate computers inside cubicles.

"You have to think about the right keywords to use in search engine," said Audriane, typing away as if they had never left school.

"'Slow down, we a team!'" burst Riki, shaking Audriane's chair.

This startled her partner, whose eyes bulged at Riki while looking around frantically to see if anyone was glaring their way.

"What, you don't remember that?" laughed Riki.

Audriane was more focused on Riki's outburst. However, it clicked. She shook her head, trying not to smile. "Of _course_ I do." She swatted her friend away.

Riki looked back at her own screen, clicking and typing. "So which one will you do?"

"What, you not gonna _text_?" joked Audriane.

Riki snorted, almost in disbelief at how, back then, such scholarly patronizing would have driven her to bitch-slap Audriane across the face. Sort of speak.

"Well, 'We do together', right?" quoted Riki, in such a quiet voice, she was almost embarrassed.

Audriane leaned back in her chair so she could see Riki past the cubicle wall. When Riki saw her looking, she exaggerated a dog-like snarl, baring her teeth in a way that threw off Audriane and yet made her explode with laughter into her hands.

"Anyway, where to begin?" sighed Audriane, tapping her fingers on the table. Finally, she typed and clicked so fast that Riki couldn't concentrate for the next half an hour, wishing she could type that fast, half wishing she could just push Audriane off her chair.

Finally, Riki declared, "Oh my god."

"_What!"_

"The closest airport is in Bilbao."

"You just found that? What were you doing this whole time?"

"Looking up Sakuya's case."

"Oh! Anything?"

"No, not really." That had been a lie; Riki had been avoiding any words or image related to that tragedy.

"Anyway, the airport is only ninety minutes away!" said Riki distractedly. "That's an hour and half. That's . . . that's amazing. We could get outta here!"

"Not without Mireille and Kirika," reminded Audriane. "Don't tell me you _haven't_ grown attached to them."

"Don't get all Stockholm Syndrome on me. Audriane, this is our chance!"

"Remember back at the monastery?" said Audriane calmly, not wanting to make a scene—even worse, draw Mireille and Kirika's attention. Not yet. "Mireille practically begged us to help her and Kirika. I know you can't leave them because you like them, you just won't admit it. They're victims, too, like Sakuya, as you claim."

Riki looked at Audriane, waiting to hear those words that finally admitted Sakuya's innocence.

However, all Audriane said was, "I refuse to leave knowing they will be killed on the spot."

Riki sighed. "It's not that I don't care about them," she reasoned. "It's just . . . hard to trust them. Meaning . . . I don't know anything about them."

"What do you _want_ to know about them?"

Riki leaned back in her chair, catching Audriane's attention. "Mireille's pockewatch."

"Ok . . .?" said Audriane, obviously multi-tasking.

"That picture on it. I've seen it before."

"Really? Where?" _Tappa! Tappa! Tappa!_

Riki lowered her voice. For some reason, she didn't want anyone to hear, especially their mentors, even though they were probably far across the library.

"In that stone hut behind Etxarren," said Riki. "It's engraved into this stone relief on the wall."

Audriane stopped typing. "Really? Wow. That really strange—that definitely something! Wait, how you . . . when you go into that stone hut?"

"Sakuya showed me."

Audriane's hands flew in the air. "Of _course_!" she sang, rolling her eyes.

Riki grinned.

"Do Mireille and Kirika know about it?" asked Audriane.

"I don't think so. We were all already leaving Etxarren. I think they decided not to worry about it since we're here in Laguardia now." Riki stared blankly at the screen. "She and Kirika are hiding something. I mean, where did Mireille get all that money? I thought we were past secrets . . ."

Audriane saw how disheartened Riki became. "Maybe they don't want to talk about it. Maybe they plan on telling us at some point."

"I need to know. There's something about that pocketwatch," said Riki, nodding to herself.

"What if it personal? That be rude?"

Riki snorted. "I think, of all the things I've said to Mireille, it's the _least_ rude."

Audriane studied Riki, as if trying to see what Riki saw. "Her father gave it to her. Of course it rude."

Riki thought about that too. "Asher puts us in Etxarren, apparently, a big deal in the Basque culture—if he _is_ Basque. And that stone hut has the same picture as the pocketwatch . . ."

"And Kirika mentioned how 'Chloe' looked like the Basque people," said Audriane, twisting a strand of her hair into a rope.

Riki stood up, absorbing Audriane's words. "Wait . . . Audriane! Can you look up the blue prints instead, while I look up—."

"How's everything, girls?"

Kirika had appeared.

Instead of answering, Riki's jaw hung open. Thankfully, Audriane, sitting casually in her seat, could control her movements versus Riki's obvious body language.

"Riki found the airport," said Audriane. "It only an hour and a half away."

"That's good," said Kirika. "Anything else?"

"Still figuring out the Sakuya case," said Riki. "What about you?"

"Like Riki had suggested, Mireille decided to contact old friends," said Kirika; she paused dramatically. "_That_ kind of old friends."

Audriane asked, "You mean . . . underworld—?"

"That kind."

"I dunno why, but hearing that you two had shady friends is kind of . . . badass," said Riki, smirking. "Anyway, find anything in the books?"

"Several books, actually," said Kirika, excited. "About their religion, sports, people, everything." She turned. "I'll leave you alone. Write down the airport address. And find those blue prints, they're really important."

She left.

Audriane turned to Riki. "What were you going to say?"

"I think . . ." Riki trailed off, typing rapidly. She paused. "Dammit."

"What?"

"I tried typing in 'Kirika Yumura'. Too many results under that same name, all seemingly irrelevant."

"What made you think you find them that easily? They assassins—." Audriane zipped her lips, then whispered, "They _assassins_."

"You're observant, you have good memory. Do you remember where Mireille said she came from?"

Audriane only thought for a second. "Um . . . Corsica."

"Shit, you remembered _that_ fast?"

"Wait, why?"

"Where's Corsica?"

"It's a mountainous land off the western coast of Italy, that forms administrative region with France."

"_Damn_, Audripedia." Audriane listened to Riki type fast, then click, then pause. "Audriane."

"Hm?"

"Come here."

Audriane got up and looked over Riki's shoulders. The first word she glimpsed on the white screen was "murdered".

She squinted at the search box to see what keywords Riki used, and read, "Mireille . . . Bouquet?" She gasped, skimming through a gold mine of overwhelming words and hints and revelations.

Corsica news. Wealthy family murdered. Underworld crossfire. Reasons unknown. Two survivors. Seven-year-old syndicate daughter. Claude Feyder. Body of George of the Bouquet family . . .

When they finished reading, Audriane sat back down in her chair, paralyzed; Riki, her mind speeding through the immense amount of words she read about Mireille's past. It felt as though a gloomy wall smacked right into them. Their minds went inconceivably blank for a moment. All they thought about was Mireille taking back the pocketwatch from them back at Etxarren.

"Her father gave her that pocketwatch," murmured Riki, filled with a pinch of sorrow.

Audriane looked at her, almost in fear. "You not think . . . he associated with the Soldats? I mean, why else Mireille despise them so?"

"Yeah . . . yeah, I think he was. He was a Soldat. So was she."

"Don't ever let her hear you say that."

They turned around, so caught up in themselves that they must have not heard Kirika. She stood there, looking at the photos of the crime scene on the computer.

The three of them stood there. The room felt like a bomb, ready to explode.

"We're sorry," said Riki.

Kirika said nothing, her face having never been this placid. Never looked them in the eye once.

"Kirika?" asked Audriane.

"Please don't tell Mireille," whispered Riki, ready for ramifications.

Nothing.

"Who . . . was it?" began Riki, only to be slapped in the arm by Audriane.

Minutes later, Kirika looked at them sternly. "The past is the past," she said. "We look to the future."

After she left, they continued in penitent silence.

…

Books were everywhere. They stood up on their binds, piles on top of each other, or separated into their own piles from the rest of the jumble. Kirika was focused on the Basques in general, having been ordered by Mireille to "just look around until it seems relevant".

Meanwhile, Mireille had been at the computer station ever since a library guest abandoned it, using that as a chance to contact her last resorts: Paulette, her hairstylist back in Paris, and Remy Brefort, the Soldat that convinced her to take on Altena.

When she came back to join Kirika among the books, the Japanese told her, "Did you know that it's most likely, although they don't admit to it, that the Basques invented the beret? _Txapela_?"

"I didn't see Asher wear one, though," said Mireille, sighing as she massaged her own temples.

"How about you?" asked Kirika, putting a book down.

Mireille folded her arms and crossed her legs. She let out a long sigh. "Paulette told me that someone raided our apartment in Paris, some time after we already landed in the Cantabrians. She's asked where I've been—of course, I didn't tell her. Something told me she was being watched. Hell, maybe she was trying to turn us over. Maybe to the third faction that's been after us . . .

"_But_, as for Brefort," she said rather sing-songy, "he confirmed that Sir Asher had been placed in charge of certain provinces in Spain for more than a decade. That he is indeed from the Basque Country, which helps narrow down everything significantly. However, Brefort couldn't tell where Asher's place was in the Soldats organization . . . even though Asher was 'one of the good ones', a man of _hitza hitz_—I don't know.

"_Then,"_ she emphasized, locking eyes with Kirika, "I told Brefort that Asher hired us to train the next generation. He got weird right there, neither shocked nor knowing, either." Mireille grimaced at that, but carried on. "I'll look into that later. Good news is that he emailed me one of the few photos of Asher—so far, seems like he's on our side."

Mireille laid a photo next to Kirika, of Asher in simple shirt and trousers, face shaved and younger, wearing a beret, holding a cane.

Mireille tapped the photo. "And guess who the little pint is next to him?"

It was a young girl with short dark hair and a very familiar face.

"Shirihime," said Kirika.

"Way to kill two birds with one stone," said Mireille.

Kirika looked at the other faces in the photo. Men in berets, with simple black vests and trousers, and black-cloth hemp-soled shoes laced up around the ankles. Walking sticks slung over their shoulders fashionably, bundled in some kind of clothing. Posed proudly. Smiling, almost laughing, or hands clamped on each other's back and shoulders.

"And what drives a person to fly all across the world?" said Mireille.

"Family," said Kirika.

"Looks like Asher did just that to adopt Shirihime. Didn't think that strange woman was his daughter. Seems peculiar, if you ask me." Mireille shook her head, as if disappointed. "The way the Soldats take advantage of the lonely child."

"'To ward the darkness from the nursing babe'," said Kirika. She looked up at Mireille. "We should check out the orphanage Shirihime was from."

"What's the point in that? We know who she is now."

"I'd personally like to know what her real name was."

It took a few seconds for Mireille to remember that Kirika had abandonment anxiety and identity crises—so whenever she found someone with a similarly mysterious childhood, she'd find a way to relate to them. First Chloe, now this.

Mireille nodded in understanding, despite her hate for Shirihime.

"Wait," said Kirika, peering closer to the photo. _"Makilas."_

"Huh?"

"Walking sticks." Kirika pushed her finger across a paragraph in the book in front of her. "The men in this photo each have one, descended from the Basque shepherd's staff. However, Asher's is more like a cane. This kind represents 'authority, justice, and respect'. His has the traditional coin engraved inside, inscribed with _hitza hitz_—'one's word is one's word'. Isn't that what Brefort said to you just now?"

"Yeah. What's the big deal, though? I haven't seen Asher with one, save for the one in this photo."

"Exactly. What has he done with it? _Makilas_ are ceremonial or bequeathed upon individuals as honorable gifts." Kirika squinted the photo. "So, did he pass it on to anyone?" She perked up. "Did he choose Riki and Audriane to pass on his leadership to them?"

"Kirika . . . that sounds ridiculous."

"Why not? The Soldats have always been about power. Asher seems different. Strange, but different. His culture means the world to him. I feel like his _makila_ is important."

"So he put us all through hell . . . for a stick?" said Mireille.

"Not exactly. I dunno. It sounds ludicrous, even I don't know where I'm going with this." Kirika reconsidered her explanation, examining the photo, showing Mireille the variety of walking sticks in her findings. "Each _makila_ is different. And one of high rank, such as his, has to have meaning. It's special. If we can trace it to its origin, or its current location, maybe we can find Asher."

Mireille learned that hunches were to never be ignored, especially in their experiences. As absurd and random as it sounded, she gathered all her willpower to trust in Kirika's theory, wherever it may lead them.

"So you think finding where that stick landed will lead us to his connections, his people, his family?" Mireille suddenly smiled. "Find his family, find him. And _end_ him."

Kirika's eyes widened. "Wait, I never said that!"

"What? He's the one who started this, remember?" argued Mireille. "Kirika. He's a _Soldat_."

"Remy Brefort, too. And your uncle. And . . . your parents."

Mireille grew silent; it was cold, but it wasn't hateful toward Kirika.

"I'm just saying," said Kirika. "Maybe not all of them are bad. But I can't say for sure until we know more about Asher. So for now, let's not make killing him our number one priority. We have that third faction to worry about. And . . ." She looked at little Shirihime in the photo. "The who'd do anything for family. We need to figure out where she plays in all of this."

"Well," said Mireille, "she told me she planned on mentoring Riki and Audriane on their first commission. I'm sure they'll let us know how that goes."


End file.
